


Prevent This Tragedy

by Zachattack11234



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Car Accident, Connor can't stop dying, Execution, F/M, Flashbacks, Graphic Violence, Human!Connor, Major Depression, Major character death - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shock, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Teenager Death, chapter 7 is not to be taken lightly, chapter 8 is FUCKED, child abuse mention, child neglect mention, he dies so much oh my god, how does one tag, major alcoholism, mention of suicide, seriously this is just sad, technically, there's a suicide in chapter 11, this is just getting worse and worse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 12:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 53,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15557289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zachattack11234/pseuds/Zachattack11234
Summary: Human!Connor x Detective!ReaderShe was so completely and utterly in love with her partner. Connor was everything she dreamed and MORE. She wanted to hold him in her arms for the rest of eternity, and never let go. All it took was one misplaced shot during a case, and he was violently taken from her, ripped painfully from her life as his was cut short, right in front of her eyes. Drinking her sorrow away at Jimmy's bar, a mysterious old woman approached her with an offer she couldn't refuse.





	1. Silence

**Author's Note:**

> I am so rusty holy fuck, I haven't posted in AT LEAST a year and I'm here to post more GARBAGE.  
> I decided to write it a little differently? Without the use of "you" words? I hope that's not a huge turn-off to this.
> 
> So I thought of this idea that what if Connor was human and you had to watch him die over and over in different ways while trying to save him (like a ground hog day effect kind of deal)? So that's essentially what this is. If you are bad with severe angst, TURN AWAY, that's essentially all this is. Carry on.
> 
> That probably sounds really messed up but here take it before I change my mind.

* * *

_**"If you had the chance to go back and change things, would you?"** _

 

The day started off just like any other. She was one of the first to arrive at the station, working patiently and diligently until her two partners decided they would show up. Connor wasn't as bad at showing up on time as Hank was, but most days he still arrived much later than her. Today was no exception.

"Hello, Detective (L/N)," an all too familiar voice greeted from the other side of her desk, behind the computer monitor. She couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of her lips as she lifted her gaze to the source of the voice. "You're here early today."

"Hey Connor. I just wanted to get a head start on this case so we can close it already," she stopped working on the computer for a moment to lean back in her chair nonchalantly, opting to chat with her partner instead of focusing on the nagging case files open on the monitor. "I could really use a coffee right now, want to join me?"

"Of course, it would be my pleasure," Connor nods as she rises from her seat, stepping out from behind her desk and joining him by his side. The way he spoke bothered most of the other officers, but she was unfazed by his strange antics. She found it endearing, in a way. So together they walked to the break room, saying little to nothing on the way. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but a mutual one. Just being next to Connor was enough for her, no need for meaningless chatter when the silence was comfort enough. Once in the break room, Connor reached up to grab her a cup from the top shelf, setting it down in front of her to make herself some coffee.

"How did the interrogation go last night? Get anything useful?" She finally asks, stirring two sugars and three creamers into her coffee. Connor strolls over to the table, taking a seat as she turned to face him, leaning against the counter and taking a slow sip of the hot beverage.

"It could have gone better, but the suspect  _did_ give us the alias of the guy we're looking for. "Doctor Frankenstein", or something like that," Connor explains, making subtle hand movements as he spoke. She did a double take, shaking her head just slightly, eyes wide in a feeling that was hard to describe. She kicked off the back counter and walked over to the empty seat in front of Connor, sitting herself down.

""Doctor Frankenstein"? Like the character from Mary Shelley's  _Frankenstein_?" She asked, furrowing her brows in what could only be considered curiosity, mixed with mild disgust. Connor didn't say anything, simply nodding his confirmation. "That's sick. Dude's experimenting on human beings and he's going around calling himself "Doctor Frankenstein"? Disgusting."

"Lieutenant Anderson said something similar as well," Connor states almost robotically, and no matter many times he sounded like that, she still found it cute. She took another sip of her coffee, and Connor unconsciously leaned back in his seat. "Why must he insist on being so late?"

"He's been like this since I can remember, and I still don't have an answer for you," She laughs lightheartedly, and despite his usual expressionless face, he smiled that awkward, crooked smile. It was refreshing to see, to say the least. With the dangers that come with the job, it was a rare occurrence to see an officer smile, let alone a detective like Connor. He's seen so much, they all have. It was nice to have these small moments where they could just chat, where they could let the world melt away around them for just a short time, taking in every second of these final moments of peace, of normalcy.

"Lieutenant Anderson is a complicated man, (Y/N). I don't think any of us could even begin to understand him. God knows I've tried," Connor says that last part with a mild sense of humor behind it, and she can't help but laugh in response. It was hard for the two to talk about Hank and not laugh, his cynical attitude and harsh language made for a very...colorful character.

"Yeah, and we all know how good  _you_ are at understanding people, Connor," she claps back, taking a joking stab at his nonexistent ego. Connor wasn't an egotistical kind of person like Gavin, but that fact never stopped her from making quips and jabs at the poor detective. He lifts a hand to his heart and drops his mouth open wide, feigning offense. He gasped to add to the exaggeration, and leaned back away from her. She covered her mouth to keep herself from laughing at this quirky display.

"(Y/N)! I'm  _offended_ you would say such a thing! I'm  _trying_ ," Connor punctuates his words by dragging them out just a little bit longer than necessary, and she rolls her eyes in response, smile blown into a full grin. She takes another drink of the rapidly cooling coffee, glancing past Connor to the glass doors, watching as Hank finally came in for work.

"Well, looks like Hank is here," She says, a slight undertone of disappointment in her voice, masked by her brilliant smile. She didn't want this moment to end, sitting with Connor like the world around her wasn't falling apart. She wanted to just talk to him for hours about things that didn't matter, because at this point the things that didn't matter meant the most to her, the small talk about what kind of dog she has and Connor's favorite band. The little moments meant the most to her, because any moment with Connor was worth remembering.

"Damn, and I was really enjoying our talk, too," Connor sighs, visibly disappointed as he stands from his chair, pushing it in. The way he did it was charming, as if he had the best manners out of all the officers in the precinct. She had never seen anyone else tuck their seat back in when they were done with it, only Connor. He stopped and waited as she stood as well, both walking out of the room and over to Connor's desk. Hank saw the two together and grumbled profanities, walking right past them to his own desk. 

"Well hello to you too, Hank," She says sarcastically, following Connor. Hank doesn't even look up to acknowledge her, waving his hand at her dismissively as Connor takes a seat at his desk beside Hank. 

"Shut up, brat. Go back to your own desk," Hank attempts to sound harsh and dismissive, but it comes off weak and lazy, like he really couldn't care less if she stuck around or not. Typical Hank. 

" _Fine_ , I'll go," She gives a light chuckle and smiles at Connor one more time, who smiles back, and goes back to her desk to continue analyzing the case file she was looking at before Connor came. Connor couldn't help but glance up at her from time to time as he analyzed the same file, taking in every detail in her face, how her eyebrows would furrow occasionally, eyes moving rapidly from left to right as she read the file over and over again, looking for something,  _anything_ they may have missed. 

He didn't get the chance to notice her do the same to him.

* * *

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. It all happened so fast, one minute everything was fine, everyone was fine, and then in no time at all her world was flipped upside down. She thought she was prepared for anything, but she wasn't prepared for this. 

It wasn't long after Hank arrived to the station that they got a lead on the whereabouts of "Doctor Frankenstein", and the three set out to find and apprehend the suspect. They all took Hank's car, with Connor sitting shotgun and her sitting in the back. She didn't feel any sort of fear or anxiety, it was just supposed to be like any other time they'd done this. She was so desensitized to the dangers of the job that not once did she think she may die today, or that, even worse, someone she loves would die today.

"Detective, can I ask you a question?" Connor suddenly speaks in the near silence of the car. The only sound prior to Connor's question was the low heavy metal music of Hank's radio, turned down so much that she could barely hear it. He seemed strangely on edge today, but she paid it no mind. She should have.

"You just did, Connor," she replies playfully, and Connor scoffs jokingly in response. Hank only rolled his eyes, muttering something about  _being too old for this shit_ and  _I need to be drunker than this._ They both ignored Hank's grumblings, so used to it that it didn't bother them anymore. Well, it never really bothered either of them in the first place.

"No, that's not what I mean!" Connor turns his body 90 degrees in the passenger's seat to look back at her with glowing eyes, full of the genuine curiosity of a child. He was so cute sometimes, it melted her icy heart. "Seriously, can I?"

"Yes, Connor, go ahead," she can't hide the smile that crept its way onto her face, unable to tear her eyes away from those beautiful brown ones. A smile found its way onto Connor's face also, and to anyone from the outside, it was so blatantly obvious they were both completely smitten with each other. Hank always complained and said it made him feel sick, but deep down it warmed his cold, dead heart too.

"Okay, so I've been  _dying_ to know, what's that shampoo you use?" Connor asks, earning an annoyed groan from Hank, and a quiet laugh from her. Only Connor would ask such a random and useless question, just to make some kind of conversation. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, the corner of his eyes wrinkling as he squints with a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry, I'm curious."

"Well, since you just  _have_ to know, it's a strawberry scented shampoo," she shakes her head at the question, amused at his display of mild embarrassment. Before she or Connor could say anything else, Hank brought the car to a stop and interrupted them.

"Sorry to stop your useless conversation  _so abruptly short_ , but we're here," Hank deadpans, looking between the two detectives. As she steps out of the car and stands next to Connor briefly, suddenly her stomach drops. Her chest felt kind of tight, and it wanted to jump up into her throat. She used to feel like this when she first became a detective, but she hadn't felt this nervous about a case in  _years_ , and just moments ago she felt fine and confident.

Connor looked at her beside him, and his silly expression from moments ago was gone in an instant, replaced by that same cold stare he held while on the job. He noticed her face visibly fall, and he reached for her hand, squeezing it gently, reassuringly, as if to silently say  _everything will be alright, there's no need to worry._ She looked up at his eyes again, squeezing his hand in return. Neither of them would have thought this would be one of the last times they'd get to do this small, loving gesture. Every little touch mattered.

They released hold on their hands, looking forward and taking a deep breath in unison, following Hank up to the large house's door. The house was old, unkempt, with rotted wood holding up the foundation of it, dusty curtains covered the windows in the front and on the sides of the house. It was a two-story house, and the second floor didn't look much better from the outside, either.

Hank knocked on the door loudly, receiving no response. Connor raises a single brow and shares a glance with her, both stepping back and drawing their guns with Hank. He knocked again, louder, on the verge of banging. "Open up, Detroit Police!"

No response, quiet sounds of rustling inside could just barely be heard, and that was enough for Hank to kick in the door. The wood splintered where it was locked and attached to the wall, the broken door swinging violently backwards, barely holding on by its hinges. Hank walks in first, followed by the two younger detectives, all three stepping carefully through the house, searching thoroughly to find the suspect. 

It wasn't long before they found him, and when they did, it was all over. It all happened so fast, Hank was at the opposite end of the room from them opening a door, while Connor opened the one in front of him. Connor took one step inside, and a sudden deafening gunshot rang out through the room, a groan, and a loud thud. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he suspect came dashing out of the room, shoving past her and toward the door. Three more shots from Hank's gun, and the suspect was down.

She rushed through the doorway to Connor's side, falling to her knees and grabbing him gently, cradling him as if he would fall apart beneath her fingertips if she held him too hard. Tears rushed down her cheeks in streams as the world in front of her crumbled to dust, and she absentmindedly moved her hand to the wound, pressing down hard to stop the bleeding. "(Y/N).."

"Connor, you can't leave me. I can't do this without you," she whispers, finally looking him in the eyes. He was pained, a drop of blood sliding down his chin from the corner of his lips, and he coughed, spitting up a small amount of blood on her shirt. He reached a weak hand up to her cheek, wincing in pain as he wiped the tears from her face.

"Sorry about your shirt, (Y/N)," Connor smiled weakly, almost laughing if it didn't hurt so much. The tears only came faster, the distinct shouting and sirens drowning out as she focused only on him, on his words, on his face. He closed his eyes, heaving a heavy breath before reopening them, dropping his hand down to hers, the one over his wound. Her fingers were coated in the thick, sticky blood pouring from the hole beneath it. "You're strong, you can do this without me, I believe in you."

"Connor I love you," she says, almost too fast for him to catch it, but he does, and he smiles. He squeezes her hand reassuringly one last time as she repeats the phrase. " _I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you._ "

With his final breath, he repeated the phrase back to her. " _I love you_."

* * *

After dragging the broken detective away from the love of her life's body, Hank took it upon himself to bring her to the bar. Losing a partner was never easy, and he took it hard too, but she definitely took it the worst. Not even ten minutes before his heart stopped beating, they were joking around, chatting about fucking shampoo, and in an instant she would never hear his laugh again, or see that warm smile, or bright eyes. That childish wonder she witnessed more often than not would never be seen again, and it crushed her.

Both of them stared silently into their glasses, letting the bar chatter act as an almost white noise against her loud thoughts. Hank lost a partner, a close friend, while she lost the only person holding her together anymore. Her world felt bleak, cold, and her heart was empty, hollow. After a long time of mutual silence, she is the one to finally break it. "He died in my arms, Hank."

He sets his drink down and glances at her beside him, looking down at the bar top instead of into her eyes. He was already hurt after losing such a close person to him, but seeing the shattered look in her eyes was too much for him to handle on top of the loss. He couldn't find the words to say anything, no words of comfort coming to mind. What was he supposed to say?

"I loved him more than anything," She sighs, swallowing the knot in her throat with a tentative drink of the whisky in her glass. With a shaky hand, she sets the glass back down on the bar, staring deep into the alcoholic liquid. "I hate that I never told him until those last few seconds."

"I'm sure that deep down, he always knew that," Hank finally responds, looking up from the counter and at her face for the first time since arriving at the bar. He was by no means good at comforting people, especially in a situation like the one currently present. Both of them were hurting, feeling like something was missing from their lives with Connor gone. "I mean, it's not like you were subtle or anything."

She lets out a choked laugh, thinking his remark was somewhat funny, a feeble attempt to lighten the really gloomy mood. It's how Connor would have wanted them to handle the situation, not like that was really possible anymore. "I guess maybe I wasn't."

The pair grew silent again, sipping quietly on their respective drinks as the bar talk continued. Neither of them really knew what to say anymore, for once left speechless. It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

Three drinks down and they were both decently wasted, wasted enough that the pain they felt was numb. She was half in and out of consciousness, Connor's words from long ago echoing in her head, calling her a lightweight. It was a memory she was fond of, a memory she kept going back to because it was funny, and in trying times like these, she needed any memory she could cling to.

Suddenly a weak hand grabbed her right arm, catching her attention. She turned to face the owner of the hand to find a short old woman hunched over slightly with a dark, murky gray hood over her old, wrinkled face, and a long black skirt, touching the floor. If she hadn't been as drunk as she was, she would have found the woman strange, and suspicious. The old woman muttered just a simple question to her, weak and quiet, only loud enough for her to hear. "If you had the chance to go back and change things, would you?"

"Oh yeah, I would definitely go back to earlier today and save Connor, for sure," she admits wholeheartedly in her drunken stupor, smiling sadly at the old woman. The old woman hummed, squeezing her grip on her arm just a little harder.

"You're determined," the woman pauses, looking deep into her eyes. "When you wish to go back, close your eyes and imagine yourself back there. Just remember, everything comes with a price."

With that, the old woman let go, and walked away, out the door. She turns to the door, mildly confused, before turning to Hank. "Hey dude, can you take me home now? I think I just hallucinated talking to an old lady."


	2. Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All it took was imagining herself back in that moment, just before Connor's life was taken, and she got the chance to rewrite the past, save his life, say the things she never got to say.  
> Question is: was is all just an intense lucid dream induced by alcohol? Or was this much bigger than we all thought?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so I just wrote the entire last half of this on a measly 5 hours of sleep, starting at 4 AM and finishing the chapter at 6.
> 
> Sorry if it isn't as good?? I'm tired?? And I just wanted to push this out before I have to go out and do real human productive things. So yeah enjoy this I guess??

"Thanks for taking me home, Hank," she says weakly, pushing her front door open and slowly stepping inside sadly. Hank follows, but stops after stepping inside by the front door. She takes her soaking wet jacket off and tosses it lazily to the floor, turning around to face her worried friend.

"Yeah, no problem," he grumbles, taking one look at her broken eyes and quickly averting them to the floor, hating that look she can’t help but give. "So, uh, you’ll be okay tonight, yeah? You won’t do anything stupid?"

"I’ll be fine, Hank. Don’t worry about me," she sighs, waving him off like he so often used to do to her. He shakes his head absently, arms crossed over his chest. He still couldn't bring himself to look at her, the pain in her eyes being too much for him to deal with on top of the loss of Connor. He wasn't sure if he should believe her, nor was he sure he could even stop worrying about her, regardless of what she had to say.

"You can't expect me to not worry, (Y/N). Not after today, not after what we both saw," Hank has a hard time getting the words he wanted to say out, and she understood. She knew Hank wasn't one for physical contact, but the moment called for a gentle hug, they both needed it. She walked closer slowly, wrapping her arms around her much older partner when she was close enough. Hank heaved a broken sigh as he slowly returned the hug, too tired and upset to outright reject the small gesture. "You sure you can handle your own?"

"Yeah," she says reluctantly, pulling away and stuffing her hands into her pants pockets. She stares at the small puddle their dripping clothes left on the tile in front of the front door for a minute, before looking back up at the older man. "Go get some sleep, dude. We both need it."

"Yeah okay, I'll see you tomorrow," Hank finally responds, turning around and walking out of the house and onto the porch, closing the front door behind him. She was all alone now, left with just her dog and herself.

She couldn't bring herself to move, dripping water onto the cold floor in the empty darkness without a care. Connor's warm, loving brown eyes seemed to stare up at her through the puddle on the floor, and she sank to her knees in front of it, staring back at the mirage. She wanted nothing more than to hold him in her arms, pepper his face in kisses,  _talk_ to him. She could never do any of those things again, and that thought shook her to the core.

_"When you wish to go back, close your eyes and imagine yourself back there."_

"What the hell was she talking about, anyway?" she says to herself, watching as Connor's image faded away into the designs on the tile floor, warped slightly in an illusion from the water. She sat up on her knees, looking ahead at the front door. "Imagine myself back there? Back at the house, before Connor was shot? What will that do?"

There was no response, being met only with the deafening silence of the dead of night, loneliness striking her like an arrow through the heart. No one was there to answer her, to comfort her, she'd pushed the only soul willing to help her away, unable to look him in the eye because whenever she did all she could think of was Connor, and all their moments together making fun of him. Fumbling in her pants pocket for her cell phone, she quickly dialed Connor's number, being met only with his voicemail.

"Hello, my name is Connor. I seem to be unavailable at this moment, but if you leave your name and number, I will make an attempt to reach you as soon as possible. Thank you."

She quickly hung up, pulling the phone away from her ear to look at his contact picture. It was a picture of the two of them, smiling brightly with a disgruntled Hank in the background, throwing up the middle finger. It was one of her favorites. Hot tears streamed fast down her cheeks once again, unable to contain them any longer. Not that it mattered anymore.

She called again, and again, listening to the voicemail over and over until she could recite the voicemail with him in real time. Her eyes were dry now, water lines from her tears looked like cracks embedded in the skin on her cheeks, her expression blank and empty.

_"When you wish to go back, close your eyes and imagine yourself back there."_

The woman's words nagged in the back of her mind, gnawing and chewing at the thoughts in the front of her mind to get the attention it wanted. She sighed, figuring she had nothing better to do, so why not relive the most painful and heartbreaking event she'd ever experienced? It's not like she had anything to lose, she already couldn't stop thinking about it.

So with a final deep breath, she closed her eyes and did her best to imagine herself back in that moment, just before Connor opened that dreadful door and took the shot that ended his life.  _3... 2... 1..._

* * *

When she opened her eyes, Connor was standing in front of her, side against the wall with his gun raised, ready for what was to come. Hank was across the room, opening a door far away from them. Without thinking, she grabs Connor's shoulder, stopping him. He looks back at her confused, and she shakes her head to find the words she  _needed_ to say. "Connor, don't."

"Don't what? Do you know something I don't, (Y/N)?" Connor asks, visibly concerned. Her mouth suddenly felt dry, and she almost couldn't breathe. She couldn't find the words to explain exactly what she  _wanted_ to say, because she wanted to tell him that,  _yes, I do know something you don't. And if you open that door and go into that room, you will fucking die._ "(Y/N)?"

She froze, thoughts running in and out of her mind at speeds she never thought possible. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, needed to tell him, but she couldn't find the words to explain herself or what was happening. She didn't even know what was happening herself, so how could she explain those things to Connor? Hank looked puzzled at the two of them, waving his arms around. "What the fuck are you doing? We need to find him!"

"Sorry, Lieutenant," Connor says, turning away from her and opening the door.  _No._

As soon as Connor stepped inside, she tackled him to the ground, a loud shot sounding in the room. Both she and Connor were disoriented by the sudden shot and painful smack against the cold, hard ground. Before she even knew what to do, she began firing blindly in the direction of the suspect, managing to land a hit somewhere on his left leg, knocking him to the ground, forcing him to drop the gun. Her chest heaved heavy breaths as she pushed herself off Connor, stumbling to her feet and shaking the daze from her mind. "Are you okay, Connor?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay," Connor assures, sitting up as Hank rushed in to arrest the suspect. She offered her hand to him, and he gladly took it, letting her help him up to his feet. "How did you know he was in here?"

"I just...had a feeling, I guess," she sighed, running a hand through her soft hair. It was unbelievable, it felt so real, but it couldn't be. She had seen him  _die_ , he took his last breath in her arms, that was too real to deny. But this, this felt just as real. It had to be some kind of cruel, lucid dream where she gets to believe she really saved him, only to wake up and realize he's still gone. This couldn't be the truth. This could only be fiction.

"Well, thanks for saving me. I could have been a real goner there," Connor laughs nervously, visibly shaken at the near death experience. She laughs fakely, still believing it all to be a dream, and Hank shoves the man past the two through the doorway, out to the car. A sharp, stabbing pain throbbed in her right temple for a short second, making her wince and bring her hand up to the spot unconsciously. "Is everything alright, (Y/N)?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just," she stops, looking up into those lovely brown eyes. They looked so real, too real to just be a dream, but it just didn't make sense. How could this be so real when she watched him  _die with her own eyes_ just hours ago? "It's nothing, really. Sorry for making you worry."

"Hey, don't be. It's okay, it's been a stressful few minutes," Connor takes a few steps closer, setting his hands on her shoulders. This would be the moment she realized it was a dream, if his hands didn't feel so real against her shoulders. This was all just  _too real_ to be only a dream. She stood motionless beneath his touch, frozen and speechless.  _This can't be real, this can't be happening, I saw him DIE._

No words needed to be said, because Connor understood enough from her sudden distant attitude to know that what she needed was his arms wrapped around her in a comforting hug, the only thing that could help anyone in a moment like this. He held her like she was a fragile masterpiece of glass, as if she'd shatter with the slightest wrong touch, and she slowly returned the embrace, closing her eyes and resting her head against his chest. "Don't let go."

"Never in a million years, (Y/N)," Connor mutters, resting his head atop hers, unconsciously rubbing small circles into her back. Even if this was all just some kind of dream, being held in his gentle embrace was everything she needed in that moment, the fabric of his jacket beneath her fingertips crinkling as she squeezed just a little harder, forcing the tears that threatened to spill to stay, unable and unwilling to cry. Lifting one hand to run softly through her hair, Connor pulls back just enough to look deep into her eyes, and they held so much life that it was impossible to deny that he was  _alive_. "We should go outside, this house is  _really_ not doing me any favors."

* * *

After the scene had been secured and the CSI team came to collect evidence to connect the suspect to the crime, Hank decided that the three of them needed to go out for a drink. Neither she nor Connor could object, believing they both needed this just as much as Hank did. Especially her.

Her attitude was distant and aloof for the most part, staring at Connor's beautiful face as he drank himself away. She'd never seen him drink like this before, yet she found herself unable to ask  _when did you start drinking like that_ _?_  

Connor was sat on the bar stool on the right of her, while Hank was on the left, both drinking like they had one hour left to live, wanting to go out wasted as hell. She didn't drink as much, not slamming down her drinks in one fell swoop like her partners did, but instead just sipping quietly on the whisky she had. Just like the first time, but with Connor being as much alive as she was. 

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?" Connor's worried voice suddenly breaks through the bar chatter, and when she looks up from her glass she realizes he'd been staring. She nods silently, a wordless confirmation that she was okay, even though deep down she understood she wasn't, and she knew that all of this was just too good to be true. Connor narrows his eyes and sets his drink down, turning his whole body on the stool to face her fully. He takes her hand in his, swiping his thumb across the back of her soft hand. "No, seriously. Something's up, I'm not an idiot."

"I'm just shaken up that you almost got shot," She stated this slowly, saying each word carefully so as to not give away her real feelings. How was she supposed to tell him the truth? What would she have said?  _Oh, yeah, I'm just a bit shaken at the fact that I watched you die in my arms, and now here you are with me, having a drink like you didn't just die hours ago._

"Well, it's thanks to you that I'm even alive right now, so don't worry. Take a load off, I think you need it more than any of us," Connor smiles that lopsided smile of his, and her heart tightens at the sight. If this all was a dream, when she wakes up she's going to be even more devastated, having seen Connor again in such a realistic way that it was almost painful.

"No, I think  _you_ need it more than any of us. You almost died today," she almost laughs, nearly forgetting the twinge of pain shooting through her chest. Every spoken word, every smile, every subtle touch and movement was a separate knife stabbing deeply into her heart and mind, but she couldn't bring herself to look away. She wanted to stare at him for the rest of her life, because she knew that in an instant he could be gone forever. Every small moment with Connor was worth hanging on to.

"Well, let's both just drink ourselves into oblivion, we deserve it," Connor laughs, and the way his eyes squint makes her heart flutter, and all that pain goes away in an instant. She finally smiles again, all those thoughts, concerns, questions begging to know just _what the fuck was going on_ were put on hold, silenced by his soothing laughter, and warm words.

Who cares if this was all just a dream? It already felt real enough to be considered a memory, and as long as she had that fabricated memory of her last moments with Connor, then everything would be okay. She just needed to enjoy it while it lasted, because she didn't know if she'd ever get the chance to see him again or say those things she wanted to say. So, she took a deep breath, gripping his hand tightly in hers as if to never let go, and she looked up into his soft brown eyes, whispering just loud enough for only him to hear, "I love you."

She wanted to tell him over and over, just like when he was heaving his last breaths before, thinking she would never get the chance to say it again. She wanted to scream it from the roof tops, let everyone in the dead of night know just how much she loved him. She made the mistake of waiting to tell him until he was dying in her arms, she wouldn't make it again.

Beaming with an innocent grin, he squeezed her hand back, staring back into her broken eyes. "I love you, too!"

She was visibly surprised, and Hank  _definitely_ heard Connor say it that time, because suddenly he was turned to face the two of them in mild shock. Connor tilted his head in confusion, wondering why she was so surprised. Honestly, she was surprised at herself too. She had heard Connor tell her the phrase before, only once, as he said his final words. She already knew that Connor loved her, why was she so surprised to hear the phrase again?

The shock on her face was quickly replaced with a small smile, a sad smile, and she threw herself into Connor's arms to keep him from seeing the tears that involuntarily slipped from her eyes. Now was his turn to be surprised, being almost knocked over from the sudden embrace, and it took him a few seconds to collect himself before he gently wrapped his arms around her, just barely hearing her quiet sobs, feeling the tears start to soak his shirt. She didn't want to let go, she loved him so much, and she was afraid that if she let go, he would fade away.

"I don't want to lose you," she whispered into his chest through silent sobs, squeezing him tightly. He smiled softly, looking down at her as he ran his hand up and down her back, a soothing gesture he did almost too often. He said nothing, just letting her get everything out until she was weakly holding on to him, being rocked back and forth in his arms.

"Hey you two, I know you're all lovey-dovey and shit, but we have work tomorrow and the bar is closing soon, so, we gotta go," Hank grumbles, slamming the last of his drink down in one go. Connor looked down at her, and she slowly detached herself from him, standing up on two wobbly legs. He stands as well, moving one hand to her back to steady her so she wouldn't fall over.

"Will you be okay tonight, (Y/N)?" Connor asks, taking a few steps forward with her until she was stable enough to walk on her own. Hank paid the bill and then the three of them headed out the door to Hank's car. Outside it was pouring rain, drenching the trio almost instantly. Hank grumbled a stream of curses, rushing his way to the car.

"I'll be fine, Connor, don't worry," she nods, and he finally lets go, albeit reluctantly. They follow Hank quickly, and once they reach the car, Connor opens the door for her before opening his own. Always a gentleman.

It was a quiet car ride back to her house. The usual heavy metal music was for once replaced by silence, and she could only assume it was because he didn't want to hear it right now. Hank decided to take her home first, finding that she lived much closer to the bar than Connor did. The ride was over much sooner than she'd expected, and it almost pained her to leave them. 

"Thanks for the ride, Hank. I'll see you at work tomorrow," she smiles sadly at the pair, opening the door and stepping out into the cold rain. Connor steps out as well, walking up to the door with her. She mindlessly reaches for his hand, taking it into hers and stepping up onto the porch. She quickly turns to face him, hand still held in hers gently, and she has half a mind to start crying again. "Thanks for walking me up to the door. Bye, Connor."

"I'll see you tomorrow," He assures, smiling warmly at her and planting a soft kiss to her forehead. When he pulls away, she leans up to give him a short peck on the cheek, and she turns to unlock and open the door.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," she says, not looking back at his retreating figure. Almost too fast, Hank and Connor were gone, and she closed the door behind her and trudged slowly to her room. She stripped herself of the cold, wet clothes and changed into a pair of sweats and an over-sized tee shirt, going into the bathroom to toss the wet clothes over the bathtub.

She grabbed the dog's food bowl off the floor and poured some food into it, feeding him and muttering a half-assed apology to the dog for feeding him so late. She quickly changes the water in the water bowl to give him fresh water, and once the dog was completely taken care of for the night, she carried herself back to the bedroom and slipped quietly into bed, rolling onto her side and closing her eyes as tears began sliding from her eyes again.

_"Just remember, everything comes with a price."_


	3. Insane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She woke up, thinking she understood the world, but it turns out she may have never really understood it at all. In a heated display of manic confusion and anger, she tries to push away the one person she was trying to save. But he wasn't going to give up on her now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't even tell how many words are in this chapter or if it's shorter than the others so if it is I'm sorry, I went a bit off the rails with this part...
> 
> I'm doing my best to keep the reader as vague yet descriptive as possible, to leave more up to your imaginations, and idk how well that's working, because shit is hard to do.
> 
> Ya'll seem to like it, though, so that's a major relief.  
> (Seriously guys your comments are so cute and sweet I love them, I'm BLUSHING)

She was surprised when she didn't wake up with a hangover.

Her alarm blared almost too loudly, but she felt as though she couldn't be bothered in the slightest to turn it off. Slower than ever, she rose up from the bed and rubbed the tiredness from her eyes, focusing her vision on the bed sheets. She sat there for a long moment, staring, attempting to wake herself up. She was sitting like that for so long, the alarm automatically snoozed off.

Once the initial morning grogginess wore off, she climbed out of bed and made her way to the kitchen to make herself a coffee in a pathetic attempt at maintaining a routine. She was already half an hour behind, no doubt she'd be late today. Not that anyone could blame her, she just lost a partner. 

Lazily, she dumped two spoonfuls of sugar into the mug of steaming hot coffee and stirred, stopping when she felt it necessary. She walked over to the fridge and grabbed the creamer she had on the inside shelf of the door, shutting the door behind her and walking over to the mug once again. All throughout this entire process, she couldn't stop thinking about that dream, about his death, how real both of them felt. Absentmindedly, she started pouring the creamer into the mug, and she forgot to stop pouring, until the mug was overflowing onto the counter.

With a quiet gasp she steps back, watching as the coffee spilled off the counter and onto the floor. The dog perks his ears up at her, almost in confusion at his owner's aloofness. She shook the thoughts of Connor from her mind as she grabbed a rag and leaned down to clean up the hot coffee. "Alright, no coffee I guess, then."

Once the mess had been cleaned, wasting another precious 10 minutes of her time, she feeds the dog, making her officially forty minutes behind her usual morning routine. Yeah, definitely going to be late.

She already knew this morning was going downhill, so she found no reason to further rush herself. Walking back to the bathroom, footsteps heavy like cement bricks were tied to her ankles, she let out a sad sigh, pushing herself past the doorway to shut the door behind her. She turned the lock out of habit, turning the knob on the shower to warm up the water as she stripped herself of her clothing.

Wait, but this wasn't what she had been wearing when she got home from a night of bar drinking with Hank in sorrow. Come to think of it, she didn't even remember taking off her wet clothing, or taking herself to bed.

She shook the thought from her head quickly, telling herself  _I'm already really late, Fowler is going to kick my ass, just take your fucking shower and be done with it._

Stepping into the hot shower, she did her best to make this a short one and be ready to go as fast as her brain would allow. Every time a thought would come to mind, she quickly shoved it away, reminding herself that she was late, there was no time for this. 

In a quick eight minutes she was out of the shower, drying herself off with her towel in record speeds, repeating curses for allowing herself to let this get to her, for allowing herself to show weakness. She threw on the usual clothes she always wore to work, having four different sets of the exact same outfit for that very purpose.

Just as she was slipping her socks and shoes on, her cell phone's ringtone resonated through the bedroom, and she hastily picked it up, thinking it was Hank, calling to ask if she was alive. But her stomach dropped when she saw that the caller ID was... Connor's.

 _This has to be some kind of sick fucking joke, like Gavin taking his phone from evidence and calling me from it just to torment me_. 

She sits on the bed, frozen and staring at the contact picture as it rings, the picture of the two of them smiling with Hank flipping them off in the background, the picture she was so fond of, the picture she studied every chance she had. The missed call tone rings out, falling to silence for only a few seconds before the phone rang again persistently. With a shaky hand, she picked the phone back up off the mattress and slides the green button to answer. She tried to keep her voice calm, but it came out as a shaky whisper. "Hello?"

"(Y/N), is everything okay? I just got here and saw that you weren't here. I asked around and nobody said they saw you come in yet. You're never late!" Connor's voice was laced with concern, and hearing his voice on the other end of the line made her heart almost stop. Her grip on the phone loosened, and it dropped to the floor with a loud thud. "(Y/N)? Are you there? (Y/N)?"

She put her hands on her eyes and slid them down over her mouth, tears welling in them, thoughts so fast they almost sounded like screams. Covering her mouth tightly, she lets out a loud, distressed scream, and she's sure Connor probably heard despite the phone having been on the floor. He says something, but the phone is too far away for her to hear what he says, and the call is quickly disconnected.

 _How is this possible? He's DEAD!_ All her thoughts run wild, grasping on to anything that she could understand as  _real_ anymore. Her breathing quickens, and she digs her nails into her hands painfully in a test to see if she was dreaming, and the sharp pains emitting from each tiny crescent is proof enough that this was really happening, that this wasn't just some fucked up, outstretched dream she was having.

Knowing that this was her reality, she began thinking of all the ways this could really be possible.  _Somebody is playing a sick prank on me by imitating his voice_ , no, that didn't seem likely, no one could imitate Connor perfectly enough to fool her.  _I'm dead, and I'm in hell_. Yes, that seemed to make much more sense.

She buried her face in her hands as she huffed out short, unsteady breaths, mind scrambling to find something,  _anything_ she could grab hold of. Her reality was falling apart right before her very eyes, having witnessed two separate outcomes of the same event, unable to discern the difference between reality and illusion. Both felt so real, right now felt  _so unbelievably real_. 

The thought terrified her. If she couldn't even distinguish what was real and what wasn't, how could she continue working as a detective on the force? Her mind was already so fragile, and now it's been shattered into pieces, dropping everything she thought she understood about the world, and suddenly it seemed as if she never really understood anything at all.  _I must be hallucinating._

She flexed her fingers outward to look at her palm, seeing the small bloody crescents scratched into her palms. The proof she needed to know that she was awake, alive, that everything around her was indeed real, and that there was no scientific explanation to explain what the hell was happening. 

_"If you had the chance to go back and change things, would you?"_

The mysterious old woman's words resonated loudly through the anguished cries in her mind. Her thoughts were scrambled in disarray, begging, pleading for the answers to all her questions.  _I... went back, and saved Connor?_

"No, that's not possible," she whispers to herself through labored breaths, panic growing exponentially. Time travel wasn't a concept that could be executed, not with the technology they had then. Sure, the concept of time travel existed, but that didn't mean it was possible, nor that she'd really done it. How could she have even done it, anyway? All she did was relive the moment in her mind to change one thing, none of that fit with any previous known theories of the concept. "It can't be true!"

_"When you wish to go back, close your eyes and imagine yourself back there."_

The woman had told her what to do, and it's exactly what she did. What did all this mean? What would happen to her now? To the rest of the world? Was Connor really even  _alive?_

_"Just remember, everything comes with a price."_

What did the woman mean by that? What was the price for saving Connor's life? Was there even a price for saving Connor's life?  _Did she even save Connor's life?_ Everything was a jumbled-up mess of pure confusion, anxiety, and pain, and she didn't know what to do or how to handle it. Everything just suddenly felt  _frantic_ , and getting to work was the last thing on her mind.

A series of loud, rapid knocks came from the door, but she was too caught up in her own mind to register it, sanity beginning to collapse all around her as she hyperventilated, vision becoming hazy from the rapid breaths. The knocks were persistent, but she stayed frozen in place, head hanging lowly in her hands as her chest heaved faster and faster. 

There was the sound of a key turning in the lock, and she suddenly stood to her feet, rushing to the door in an attempt to lock out whoever came for her. If it really was Connor, she didn't know how to face him, and if it was the cock stain she suspected was playing a cruel joke on her, she didn't think she would be able to stop herself from murdering them.

Her rushing to the door was clumsy as she bumped into walls and caught herself from crashing painfully to the floor on multiple occasions, but she just wasn't fast enough to get to the door and the door was flung open, causing her to stop dead where she stood, in view from the front door. Her breath hitched in her throat and all her bodily functions seemed to cease as she stared at the figure in the door way. 

Connor rushed over to her and grabbed her by the shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. He noticed how she looked...broken. His eyes darted around, searching her face for any hint of anything, anything he could notice to figure out just what was going on inside her head. "(Y/N), what's going on? What happened? I heard you scream, are you in danger?"

She said nothing, shaking underneath his hands and starting to panic once again, heaving out heavy breaths as she raised her shaking hands to both sides of her head, averting her gaze to the floor. Connor visibly paled, moving his hands from her shoulders to cup her face. "It's okay, just breathe. Can you do that for me? Breathe."

This did little to help, and she only began to shake more violently, complete panic ripping through every inch of her body, and she just needed to  _get away_. She shoved past him and ran for the door, but he caught her wrist in a swift movement, effectively stopping her for a moment. She wanted to scream, but the sound wouldn't come up, and no matter how hard she struggled against him, he was just stronger, and she knew she wouldn't get away so easily. "(Y/N)! What has gotten into you? I've never seen you like this! Please, just tell me! I want to  _help_ you!"

"You  _can't_ help me, Connor!" she shouts, tears stinging painfully in her eyes as she wrenched her hand away from him, turning to face him with eyes full of fire, fists clenched so tight her nails dug back into her palms, reopening the smaller wounds from not long ago. Connor takes a tentative step back, expression holding a mix of shock, worry, and sorrow. When she sees the pain in his eyes, she can't hold the tears back, and she collapses to her knees in a fit of sobbing, wrecked completely by the events of the past...day? She didn't even know anymore. "I'm sorry, Connor. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, hey, it's okay, calm down, I'm here," Connor's voice is soft and comforting as he speaks, slowly approaching her weeping body on the floor. He didn't understand what was going on with her. She was fine not even 24 hours ago, and now all of a sudden she's reduced to  _this_ _?_ It disturbed him, to say the least. He kneels down in front of her, hesitantly extending a hand out to her, not wanting to frighten her more than she already was. "Is there anyone in the house?"

"N-no" she choked out between sobs, reaching out to grab his shirt as she leaned in to be closer. He wrapped his arms around her to steady her, raking his brain for anything to give him a clue as to why she seemed much more broken than usual. "Y-you don't understand, Connor. I-I'm so confused, nothing makes s-sense anymore. I'm losing everything."

Her words were needles in his heart, and he wanted  _so desperately_ to understand, but she wasn't letting him in, she wouldn't break down her walls for him. He shushed her quietly, rocking her back and forth just like he'd done at the bar, but this time he did it consciously, wanting to just calm her down. That was number one on his list, until his phone's loud ring caught them both off-guard. Without letting go of her, he took his phone out of his pocket and slid the green button to answer. "Hello Lieutenant."

"Hey, where the fuck are you!? And where's (Y/N)!? She's always here before me!" Hank shouts through the phone, and Connor pulls the phone away from his ear with a wince. He glances back down at her for a moment, watching as she just crumbled apart beneath his light hold, unable to stop the uncontrollable sobs. "Connor! Are you even listening to me!?"

"Yes, Lieutenant!" Connor snaps harshly, squeezing the phone in his hand just a little tighter. He really didn't need Hank breathing down his neck while he was doing his  _fucking best_. Her grip on his shirt tightened, and she forced her sobs to die down to silent streaks of tears. Connor lets out a frustrated sigh and clears his throat, attempting to get past his momentary snap. "I'm sorry. I'm with her now, we'll be in soon, just... try to stall for time or something."

Hank mutters a stream of curses and hangs up, leaving Connor to fend for himself. A heavy sigh escapes him, and he rubs her back for a very short time before making an attempt to have her stand up. "Come on, I know you're not exactly... in a good place right now... but we need to go to the station if we want to keep our jobs-"

"Fuck our jobs, it'll only get us fucking killed in the end," she suddenly laughs sardonically, pushing Connor away and standing up. She wipes her tears and turns away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. He reaches out to touch her shoulder, but reluctantly pulls away, not wanting to do any more damage than what was already done. "I mean, you..."

She stops herself before she can finish her thought, looking up at the ceiling hopelessly. She couldn't tell him what she saw, what she did, what was happening. How could she? He would insist she's insane and needs medical treatment, and she wasn't ready for that. She didn't  _want_ that. She finally takes a deep breath, and despite the pounding of her heart against her rib cage, she turns to face Connor again, expression flat and empty. He wasn't sure what was worse; seeing her reduced to a sobbing mess on the floor, or seeing her so cold and empty. Either choice wasn't good.

"Hank needs us down at the station, I'll meet you there," her voice is monotone, with just the smallest sliver of sadness still peeking out in her tone. She turns away again, swiping her bag and keys off the counter, running down to her room to grab her phone. When she comes back into the living room, she expects Connor to be gone, but he wasn't. She was about to ask what he was still doing in her house, but he cut her off before she had the chance.

"We should ride to the station together," Connor says quickly, matching her cold stare with his own. She's too broken to argue, so she just scoffs to cover up the twinge of pain that shoots through her heart, and walks out the door, Connor following close behind. She locks the door behind them and walks to the passenger side door of Connor's car, standing patiently as she waits for him to unlock it. Connor couldn't swallow the knot in his throat, and he fumbled slightly with his keys until he finally unlocked the doors.

She opened the door and climbed inside silently, immediately shutting the door and setting her bag on the ground. Connor quickly followed suit, buckling his seat belt and starting the car. She does the same, and stares out the window at the darkening gray clouds hanging bleakly over Detroit. After a long few minutes of total silence, Connor finally breaks it, as usual. "I don't want to upset you or pry too much, but I  _want_ to know what's happening with you, (Y/N). I know it may be hard-"

"It isn't that it's hard to tell you, Connor. I  _want_ to tell you, I don't want to leave you in the dark, but I just  _can't_ ," she punctuates the words by slamming her fist into her thigh painfully, and Connor visibly flinches. She shifts her gaze from the window to the black carpet of the car beneath her feet, too real to deny anymore. Could she even deny anything anymore?

"Why not?"

"Because you won't believe me. I don't even believe  _myself_."


	4. Whatever It Takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was the famous hostage negotiator of Detroit, so he should have been good at this kind of thing. But having distractions on his mind made his negotiating game weak, which proved to be a very deadly mistake.
> 
> She had only herself to blame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEah this one kind of got away from me lmao I don't even know where I'm going with this BUT IT'S SOMEWHERE.
> 
> JUMP ON THIS TRAGEDY TRAIN WITH ME, DERAILING DOWN A PATH TOTALLY UNKNOWN  
> I AM YOUR CAPTAIN, DO YOU TRUST ME
> 
> i am...self projecting
> 
> YEAH ENJOY THIS SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG (im excited im sorry)

They were half-way to the station when Connor's phone began to ring again, and he hastily picked up the phone, huffing an irritated sigh. "Lieutenant Anderson I assure you we're almost there."

"I'm not calling about that, dipshit. There's a hostage situation, a man dead, meet me there," Hank grumbles, the sound of his car starting up purring through the phone in the pause. "I'll send you the address."

"Okay Lieutenant," Connor takes the phone away from his ear, seeing that Hank had already hung up. Connor turns the car around, going back in the opposite direction of the station, in the direction of the hostage. "Sorry, (Y/N), we have to meet Hank at a hostage situation."

"No, we can't!" she nearly shouts, whipping her head to the side to look at her partner with wide eyes, full of fear. Connor furrows his brows, glancing at her for just a quick moment before turning back to the road.

"What, why? They  _need_ us to be there," Connor almost groans, already exhausted from the events that transpired not even an hour ago. Oh, this girl was going to be the death of him. "If you're scared I'm going to die-"

"I  _am_ scared that you're going to die, Connor!" she yells, gripping her knees tightly. Connor held his breath unintentionally at her outburst, tightening his hands on the wheel just slightly. Now that she saved his life, was she going to always be this way? "I just don't want to lose you again."

"What do you mean  _again_ _?_ " Connor puts extra emphasis on the word, and she visibly tenses. She says nothing in response to his question, and he turns on his hazards as he pulled over to the side of the road. "(Y/N), look at me. What do you mean,  _again?_ "

"I-I just," she stumbles over her words and thoughts, trying to find a way to cover up the use of the word. "It slipped, okay? I-I didn't mean to add the word "again" to the end of my sentence, it just came out."

Connor gave her a skeptical look, but continued on anyway. After the hostage situation was finally over, he would need to sit her down and have a  _serious_ discussion about  _just what the fuck happened today_. "Well, I assure you, I'm one of the best negotiators in Detroit, I'll be fine."

She sighs in defeat, slumping in the passenger seat of Connor's car. Knowing Connor, he wasn't going to just abandon his job, no matter what risks there may be. Even if his life was at stake, he would gladly give it in order for someone else to live. It was exhausting sometimes.

Every few minutes in silence, she would look up at Connor's face, wanting to say something, but she stayed quiet. He wasn't going to listen, he never did, not when it came to the investigation. He  _always_ put the job before himself, and that pissed her off more than anything. But she stayed quiet, because what was she supposed to say? That some mysterious old lady gave her the power to fix her mistakes so she could save his life? He would think she's totally  _insane!_

It felt like the longest ride she'd ever taken with Connor, and if she knew better she would have utilized that moment to  _talk_ to him, but instead she spent it in her own head, running over every possible scenario in her head. What if he was right? What if she  _was_ just worried about nothing? He  _was_ the best hostage negotiator in Detroit, and that wasn't an understatement. She had no reason  _not_ to trust him.

So, she trusted him.

The car pulled to a stop nearby, seeing the array of police cars and officers with their guns drawn, pointing to the house. Hank was shouting orders at his fellow officers, and the two quickly got out of the car, rushing over to him. "I apologize, Lieutenant. It's been a bit of a," Connor pauses, glancing at her for a second, then back at Hank with an annoyed expression, "tough morning."

"Whatever, I don't care, go do your fuckin' thing," Hank waves him off, turning back to the other officers he was talking to before they arrived. Connor nods, turning away from them, and she watches as he gets smaller, walking away from them quietly toward the side of the house. Her eyes never left his retreating form, watching until he disappeared around the side of the house. Her heart leapt into her throat in anticipation.

Connor snuck around the side of the house silently, bending low around windows and taking slow, calculated steps on the concrete. Hank was to distract the armed suspect with loud police chatter outside while Connor was to go inside and confront him. That was the plan.

His mind dangerously wandered away from the task at hand, thinking about why his partner was acting so strangely. Did he do something to make her snap? Seeing the way she looked at him in that moment made his heart break.

He reached the back door, smashed in by something, probably some kind of baseball bat or other blunt object. It didn't have the marks of a hatchet or any other bladed objects, which made one suspect it was probably a bat. Stepping carefully around the debris, he approached the man slowly, but tripped on a stray wooden board, catching the suspect's attention, and he whipped around with the hostage still in his grip. 

The man had the pregnant woman in a choke hold, not tight enough to kill her, but enough to hold her still. He pointed the gun away from her directly at Connor, who threw his hands up in surrender. "I'm unarmed! I'm only here to talk."

Rookie mistake. His mind was so preoccupied that he wasn't thinking straight. The man caught a glimpse of the gun on his hip when he threw his hands up, he knew that Connor was  _lying_ to him. The man gritted his teeth and screamed, "Liar!"

He pulled the trigger and a loud bang could be heard all the way outside. Her heart stopped in that moment, and everyone stopped, looking directly at the house. Before her mind could even register what was happening, she found her feet running, but Hank grabbed her arm and pulled her closer, to keep her from running to the house. It was too dangerous to let her go in. 

When she was close enough to him, he used his other hand to grab her shoulder, holding her back as she tried to run to Connor, pushing at his chest to get away. She had that feeling in her gut, she knew Connor was dead again. She fucking  _knew_ , because of course he was. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes, standing still in Hank's iron-like grasp.

_"When you wish to go back, close your eyes and imagine yourself back there."_

_What do I have to lose?_ She trembled underneath Hank's hands as he shouted at the officers to apprehend the man, and she kept her eyes closed, ignoring everything around her to imagine herself back when Connor first started to walk away from her, right before he went in.  _3... 2... 1..._

* * *

Connor began to walk away, and she slipped away from Hank to follow him, grabbing him by the hand before he could get to the house. He stopped and turned with that same annoyed expression he gave her earlier. "What is it  _now,_ (Y/N)?"

"Connor, you can't go in there," she pestered, staring deep into his brown eyes. A sudden sharp pain came from her right temple, like a tiny needle stabbing into the right side of her brain. She shook the pain out of her head and persisted, squeezing his hand tighter.

"Oh my God, what is up with you? Why are you acting so weird?" Connor asks rudely, letting out an exasperated sigh and running his free hand down his face. She tried to swallow the knot in her throat, but the knot stayed. "I've done this a hundred times."

"Connor,  _please!_ You can't go in there!" she persists, a hint of something broken in her eyes. Connor scoffs and shakes his head, pulling his hand away from her, but she grabs it again, tugging him just a little closer. "We can find a different way to negotiate."

"Oh, come on! I  _know_ what I'm doing, (Y/N)," he insists, rolling his eyes, but making no effort to pull his hand away this time. "I'll be fine."

"If you go in there, he's going to shoot you," she squeezes his hand tighter, a silent plea to listen to her  _for once_ and not put his life in danger like this. She trusted him so easily the first time, why couldn't he just  _trust_ her?

"You don't know that," Connor states snarkily, and she lets out a frustrated groan at the difficult detective. She wanted to smack him so badly, but refrained from doing so because with violence, her argument loses value. 

"Please just  _trust me!_ We can stall for time until we can get her out safely," she's practically begging him now, moving closer to him to grab the fabric of his shirt instead of his hand. He saw how desperate she was, and it broke his heart in a way, but he  _needed_ to do this. It was his  _job_. "You don't have to risk your life!"

"That woman in there is  _pregnant_ , (Y/N)! We don't have  _time_ to wait!" Connor shakes his head, putting his warm hand over one of hers and letting it rest there. "Seriously, ever since this morning, you've been acting crazy."

"I just don't want you to die! Is that so hard to understand?" she almost yells, but keeps her voice low enough that only Connor can hear her. He visibly tenses, and clenches his teeth, squeezing her hand gently.

"I know you're worried, but you need to trust me," he just will  _not_ give up. She knows that arguing with the stubborn detective is futile, because apparently, he will  _always know what's best._

"Fine, if you  _insist_ on going in, then  _at least_ let me come in with you in case shit hits the fan," she lets go of him and jabs him in the chest with a finger patronizingly, pouting because he wouldn't listen to her.

"Oh my God," he presses his palms into his eyes, repressing another annoyed groan at the girl.  _Seriously, she was going to be the death of him._ "If I let you come in with me will you  _stop this shit?_ "

"Okay, fine!" she thrusts her hand out to shake on it, a habit she'd done since she was younger.  _Always seal it with a handshake._ He took her hand in his own, having done this gesture many times with her. Letting go of her hand, he turns to continue his brisk pace to the house, slowing down as he approached the side of the house.

He stopped, putting a hand out to stop her as well, and proceeded to crouch low to the ground, motioning for her to do the same. She followed his lead, crouching low to the ground beside him. He put a finger up to his lips in a silent way of saying,  _don't make a sound._

Carefully they stepped around the side of the house, below the windows, around the back corner and to the broken door. Connor stopped her again, sharing a wordless glance before stepping through the door and into the house. She slowly crept up to the door after him, but when she hears him stumble slightly and knock over a board, she stands to her feet and approaches the door, stepping in behind him.

"I'm unarmed! I'm only here to talk," Connor's voice is shaky, and his arms are raised above his head. That's when she sees the gun, and that's when the man sees it to, and in an instant there's a loud shot ringing in her ears, and Connor's body falls into her, a bullet hole in his forehead. She falls to her knees and shuts her eyes, hyperventilating as the man screams at her, waving the gun at her and telling her to step away.

_"When you wish to go back, close your eyes-"_

_3... 2... 1..._

"I'm unarmed! I'm only here to talk," Connor's voice is shaky, and his arms are raised above his head. Without warning, she shoves him to the ground, and the man fires where they used to be. He shoves the hostage away to have complete focus on the two detectives, and that's when she takes the opportunity to pull Connor's gun out of its holster on his hip and shoot at the man.

The man went running, firing blindly behind him as he ran to the door. She was so focused on stopping and apprehending the man that she paid the throbbing in her temple no mind. She scrambles to her feet, leaving Connor on the floor in shock as she chased the man, finally landing a blow to his right arm, knocking the gun out of his hand. He howls in pain and she tackles him to the ground, sitting on top of him as she forced his hands behind his back to cuff him. She reads him his rights as the front door swung open with a swift kick from Hank, an army of officers behind him. 

He looked down at her in shock as she got off him, yanking him to his feet by the arms. She says nothing as she shoves the man roughly past them to a police vehicle. Connor slowly approached from behind where she was, rubbing his hands together anxiously. Hank disregards them and runs immediately to the hostage, checking on her to make sure she was okay.

Connor wordlessly weaves through the wave of officers coming inside to secure the house, trying desperately to reach her. He was  _wrong_ , and they both  _knew_ that he was wrong. He felt stupid for not trusting her. He had a million questions running through his mind, as did she, but the question at the front of his mind, was  _how did she know what to do in an instant?_

He hadn't ever seen anyone on the force react  _that fast_ before. It was almost like she was expecting it, like she knew it was going to happen, like she  _saw_ it happen before it even happened. What was going on with her?

She shoves the man into the back of a police cruiser and tells the officer driving the car to take him to the hospital first for medical treatment before taking him to the station. The officer hastily agrees, quickly driving away to take him to the hospital to fix the bullet wound in his shoulder. She hears footsteps behind her, and she stays still, refusing to turn around.

"(Y/N), I-"

"Save it, Connor. I know what you're going to say, and I don't care," she hisses, turning around to look him dead in the eye. He looked hurt, and nervous, having almost died  ~~for the fourth fucking time~~. "We got the guy, saved the hostage and her baby, so it doesn't matter what apologies you're going to spew out of that fucking mouth of yours. The job is done, like you fucking wanted."

"I know that I've been a bit," he pauses, unsure of how to put this. She was already really mad, so continuing to talk was only going to make her madder, but he  ~~~~ ~~~~ _needed_ to talk to her. " _Irrational,_ today."

"Oh, really?" She asks in a sarcastic tone, crossing her arms over her chest. She was  _fuming_ , and she knew that it wasn't fair to Connor to be so mean and angry, but she couldn't help herself. He wouldn't  _listen_ to her, he wouldn't  _trust_ her. And that hurt the most. She knew she was being irrational, too, but she didn't know how to cope with the fact that  _she can go back and correct her mistakes._ Wouldn't anyone  _kill_ to be able to do that?

_"Just remember, everything comes with a price."_

"I know I should have handled all these situations better today, I'm sorry I didn't put your feelings into consideration," Connor apologized, rubbing his hands together in that nervous tick he always did. 

"I'm sorry, wait, did you just say  _my feelings?_ " she asks, voice laced with venomous undertones, and Connor knew he fucked up. "My  _feelings_ aren't the issue, Connor. I'm not pissed off because you  _hurt my fucking feelings._ I'm  _pissed off_ because you were willing to fucking die, no matter how many times I told you  _I didn't want you to get hurt._ You showed me today how  _little_ you value my opinion. I know I might be  _crazy_ , as you so  _elegantly_ put it, but think about it, am I really the crazy one? Or are  _you?_ "

Okay, yeah, Connor wasn't coming back from  _that_ one. 

He stood in front of her, shocked, stunned into silence  _for once_. His brain scrambled to find the words to say to her, but for the first time since he could remember he didn't know what to say. He didn't like it when she was angry with him, she was mean and distant when she was angry, he especially didn't want to be on the receiving end of her anger. "What, you have nothing to say?  _That's_ a first."

Neither of them noticed, but a small crowd of officers had gathered around the two to listen to them argue. It was rare to see her and Connor arguing or fighting, let alone  _Connor_ being the one getting his head bitten off. 

"Oh, what's this? A little trouble in paradise?" her head snapped to the side away from Connor to the source of the voice, visibly scowling when she makes eye contact with  _Gavin Reed_ , the  _scum_ of the DPD. Her glare was downright  _murderous_ at the little shit, and Connor unintentionally held his breath.

"Gavin, I swear to  _God_ if you say one more thing, I'm going to rip your  _fucking throat out,_ " she growls, digging her fingers into her palms to keep herself from latching them onto Gavin's neck and choking the living  _shit_ out of him. Connor hesitantly sets a hand on her shoulder, one she shrugs off and glares back at him. "Don't fucking touch me."

"Hey, hey! Kid, knock it off!" Hank is storming over to her and he shoves Gavin out of the way, knocking him off-balance, but he manages to catch himself without being thrown to the asphalt. He grabs her arm roughly and pulls her away from the crowd toward his car, letting go once they were a considerable distance away. "What in the  _fuck_ is going on with you!?"

"I'm perfectly  _fine_ , Hank," she huffs, crossing her arms over her shoulders. He isn't buying it. He shakes his head and crosses his arms too, standing up straight to be taller and more intimidating than her, but she was too angry to feel intimidated by her older partner.

"No, you clearly  _aren't,_ brat. You have  _never_ snapped at Connor like that, and while, yes, you have threatened Gavin in many ways, that isn't the problem," Hank takes a deep breath to try and keep himself from being too harsh. He wasn't like that often, but with her, it was a little different. It was like he couldn't bring himself to be mean to her. "Why were you late today? Why was Connor late today? What were you two doing together, hm?"

"It was just a rough morning," she insists, not backing down in the face of her superior. 

"After you both told each other  _I love you_ in a fucking bar, drunker than fuck?" Hank raises an eyebrow at her expectantly, and her cold, angry expression quickly falls. "Yeah, don't think I was too drunk to forget that shit. So really, what is going on with you two?"

"He just," she groans, putting both hands on her face and dragging them down slowly in frustration, "he just keeps fucking throwing himself into every dangerous situation he can, like he  _wants_ to die. And I keep trying to convince him not to do something because it'll only get him killed, but he fucking ignores me and does it anyway. He's going to get himself killed, and I have to stand by and watch it happen. I  _hate_ it!"

"It's been two times, (Y/N), it's just a bad week," Hank sighs, leaning against the door of his car. He shifts his gaze to Connor for a quick moment, watching him stand awkwardly by the door of his own car. She rode with him there, he didn't know if she was going to ride back with him or Hank, so he didn't want to leave her there on the off-chance she chose to ride with him.

"Well, it feels like it's been more than  _twice_ , Hank."

* * *

She pushed through the doors of the gas station, hands still shaking from the incident(s) that happened at the hostage situation hours ago. She walked straight up to the counter, trying her best to avoid eye contact with the cashier. She slid a lighter across the counter, and asked, "Uh, can I get a pack of Pyramid Blue 100s?"

"ID please," he says politely, and she passes him her driver's license with a shaky hand. He scans the ID and passes it back to her as she hands him the cash to pay for it. "Are you alright, ma'am?"

"Yeah, just been a long day," she mutters, taking the pack of cigarettes and thanking him as she walks out, hitting the top of the pack against the palm of her hand to pack the tobacco down. She'd never smoked cigarettes before, but she'd seen plenty of people do it that she knew exactly what to do with it. 

Once packed down, she took the plastic wrapping off the package and stuffed the trash into her pocket, noting to throw it away at the house later. She took a cigarette out and flipped it upside down;  _the lucky cigarette._ After flipping the first, she took out another and put it up to her lips, lighting it with the newly bought lighter. She sucked in a breath, inhaling the cigarette smoke. She continued the walk to Connor's car, stopping by the door and leaning against it instead of getting in.

Against all odds, she rode with Connor the rest of the day, mostly only because Hank forced her to. She could have just had Connor take her home so she could get her car and drive  _herself_ around, but even though she was mad, she had a soft spot for the stubborn asshole. He sighed inside the car and stepped out, shutting the door behind him and walking around the front of the car to stand next to her. "When did you start smoking cigarettes?"

"It's a habit I just recently picked up," she says distantly, bringing the cigarette to her lips and breathing in again. He looks at her with sad eyes, and says nothing, instead just shifting his gaze to their shoes. They looked similar, hers being smaller and his being bigger, both black, shiny. Well, hers were a bit scuffed up from chasing that man earlier, but they were still shiny nonetheless.

They stood together like that in silence until the cigarette was down to the filter, to which she flicked it to the pavement and snuffed out the tip with her shoe. She turned around to Connor, eyes cold and lost. "Okay, we can go, now."


	5. Don't Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting into a pretty vicious verbal fight with Connor, she does the only thing she can think about doing in that moment; getting drunker than Hank.
> 
> In her drunken daze, she learns a few things she never would have thought of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW OUCH THAT ONE ACTUALLY HURT ME  
> (can you guess which line I'm talking about lmao)
> 
> Chapter ran just a few hundred words shorter than I would have liked, but there wasn't really much I could do about that. 
> 
> anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, I really tried to make it good lmao

The car pulled to a stop in front of her house, but before she could get out of the car, Connor spoke up. "Wait, please. I-I think we need to talk."

"What is there to talk about?" she says coldly, hand resting on the handle of the door. She keeps her hand there, but makes no movement to escape the car and leave Connor hanging. He clears his throat and turns back to the road, pulling away from her house. She turns in her seat to look back at it as it faded in the dark of the night. "Connor, what the  _fuck?_ "

"I'm not the only one who's been irrational today, (Y/N). I  _know_ I should have handled things better; the hostage, you, Hank. I made a lot of mistakes today, I'm  _sorry_ ," Connor's hands tighten around the wheel as he drives, eyes narrowing at the road in front of him. "But don't you  _dare_ try to act like you couldn't have handled things better, either."

"Okay, so maybe I _could_ have handled things better. Maybe I  _could_ have been overreacting a bit," she exasperates, running a hand through her hair.  _But can you blame me? I saw you die three times now, and here you are, just as alive as if you didn't die hours ago._ She shakes her head at the thought, knowing she could never tell him. 

"Seriously?" Connor stops the car, turning his whole body to face her. "(Y/N), I don't know what's going on with you, or why you've been so fragile since you saved my life-"

" _Fragile!?_ I saved your stupid fucking ass  _twice,_ now! I think maybe  _you're_ the fragile one-"

"Okay, so maybe "fragile" wasn't the right word to use," Connor sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose in mild irritation.  _Why did she have to be so difficult sometimes?_ "Are you sure that you should be working as a detective anymore?"

"Don't you dare," she snarls, digging her nails hard into the seat. "I am  _perfectly capable_ of handling my job, Connor. Question is,  _are you?_ I mean, you've almost been killed twice now, saved by  _me_. I  _think_ I can handle being a  _detective_. Can  _you?_ "

"It's been a bad week!" Connor defended, huffing an annoyed sigh.

"I'm  _sure_ ," she rolls her eyes, turning in the seat to sit forward and stare at the road. Connor groaned in frustration and turned back to the wheel, stepping on the gas. She turned her head to look out the window away from Connor, watching as the trees blurred past them.

"Why aren't you talking to me?" Connor mutters into the silence of the car, expression sad as he watched the road, making a u-turn at the next light to finally take her home. He couldn't keep her here if she didn't want to be. "It used to be so easy before. What changed?"

"I can't tell you, Connor. I told you that," she sighs, not moving from her current position of watching the trees pass. He shakes his head and puts his foot on the brakes, coming to a stop at a red light.

"You can tell me anything, (Y/N)! I promise you, I  _will_ listen," Connor says desperately, turning his head to face her. She refuses to look at him, staring distantly out the window. A honk behind him startles him to look forward, seeing the green light. He pressed on the gas to go through the intersection, shaking his head. "Whatever is happening, you don't have to go through it alone."

"You just don't get it. This  _problem_ I'm having is beyond comprehension," she puts her head in her hands, letting out a shaky sigh. She did it two more times today, only proving her theory, and still she couldn't wrap her head around just  _what the fuck is happening_ _?_ "I don't even understand what's going on with me, Connor. So how could you?"

"Then we can be confused together. Please," Connor pleads, reaching his right hand out to grab hers, squeezing it reassuringly, lovingly. "Please don't leave me in the dark on this."

"Connor," she breathes, squeezing her eyes tight as tears spill over her cheeks. He pulls the car along the side of her house for the second time that night, and she wipes the tears from her eyes. "I-I have to go."

Connor opens his mouth to say something and reaches his hand out to stop her, but she's out of the car and running up to her house before he can do anything. He sighs and drops his hand, turning back to the road and driving off as she shuts the front door behind her.

As soon as the door shuts, she presses her back against it and slides down to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. She can't stop the tears that stream down her red cheeks like rivers, leaving little canyons in their wake. She shakes her head and slams her left fist into the wall beside her over and over. "Dammit! Goddammit! Fuck!"

She stops when her knuckles are scratched up and a little bloody, after the tears had stopped. She bit her lip hard, digging her teeth painfully into the soft skin, not stopping even after she felt the iron hit her tongue. She forced herself off the floor, shuffling the jacket off her shoulders and letting it hit the floor with a light thud. The dog was laying peacefully in his dog bed at the corner of the living room, undisturbed by his owner's clear distress.

She swiped her finger along her bottom lip, looking at the blood that collected on her finger. She cursed, walking briskly to the kitchen and to the sink, turning on the water to wash her bloody hands. She splashed some into her face, wiping particularly hard over the cut on her lip. "Fucking stupid Connor and his beautiful stupid face."

She lets out a depressed sigh, walking over to the freezer and grabbing a bottle of vodka. It wasn't the best by itself, but when used to spike a drink, it was much better. She preferred to spike things like orange juice or cranberry juice, but she hadn't gone grocery shopping and didn't have the luxury to do that tonight. But there was  _no fucking way_ she wasn't getting drunk tonight, and the only alcohol she had was vodka.

Great.

She took the bottle to the counter and reached into the cupboard above her to grab a short glass, the ones she always used for her alcoholic drinks. She didn't drink much before, but she figured now would be the  _perfect_ time to pick up the habit. 

She poured a glass of vodka and slammed it back in one go. It burned her throat on its way down, and a tremor went through her whole body at the bitter burning of the alcohol. She hacked and coughed, sticking her tongue out in mild disgust. Yeah, vodka definitely wasn't her favorite.

"Gonna slam a drink for every time Connor died," she nods to herself, pouring another drink. Her voice is bitter as she speaks to herself, staring into the clear glass. She swished the glass around against the counter, watching the liquid slosh around inside it. "And two more, for saving his stupid ass."

She takes a shuddering breath before she slams the second drink, lifting it up to her lips hesitantly. She shakes the hesitation from her head and knocks back the second one, electricity shooting up her spine as she trembles. She sets the glass down on the counter again, staring at the smear of blood on the glass from her bitten lip. 

She puts her hands on the counter to steady herself, feeling the slight dizziness that came from slamming vodka that fast. She rubs her forehead with one hand as she leans against the counter for support. "Stupid fucking Connor, got me drinking like  _Hank_. Bastard."

She shakes her head and grabs the bottle again, pouring a third drink. She knew she probably should stop, but was she going to? No, no she wasn't. She picked up the glass with a shaky hand and drank it like a shot, groaning at the shiver that unintentionally went through her. It happened every time, Vodka wasn't supposed to be drunk like that, not in that amount.

She put the glass back down and wiped the back of her hand across her lips, smearing more blood along her hand. She let out a shaky breath, tightening her grip on the counter almost painfully. Her vision was becoming a little hazy, and she was  _definitely_ a bit more than just tipsy now. Most people are drunk  _as fuck_ by the third drink, and here she was, slamming them down like water.

She had a hard time holding herself up now, using most of her energy to keep herself standing by the counter. Against her better judgment, she poured herself a fourth glass, staring down at the clear alcohol as if looking for a reflection. With little thought, she threw her head back to chug the vodka, a small amount spilling out over the cut on her lip.

She yelped in pain and dropped the glass, sending it shattering to the floor. She let out a stream of curses as she scrambled to get the broom and dust pan, but she didn't even make it to the other end of the kitchen before she collapsed to the floor. She sat herself up against the stove-top oven behind her, bringing a hand to touch her temple. "God, 'm so pathetic, aren' I?"

"How am I suppos'd ta cope with this? What even  _is_ a-alla this?" she sighs, turning her head to look at the broken glass on the floor. The dog definitely heard that, because he was slowly approaching the kitchen to see what all the fuss is about. Her head rolls to the other side, vision blurry as she watched her dog approach her. "Heyyyy, buddyyy."

The dog creeps up along the side of her, away from the glass, and curls up beside her comfortingly. Dogs always had a sixth sense in telling when something is wrong, and they always tried to make lives better. They are a gift. "How're 'ya doin'?"

He nuzzles up to her side, and she coos at him for a minute before her thoughts catch up with her drunken state.  _What did she mean? I don't want to keep Connor in the dark, but how do I tell him? Can I even tell him? Would he even believe me?_

Tears unintentionally started forming in her eyes, and she blinked them away.  _Fucking Connor._ She buried her face in her hands and shuddered, thoughts becoming garbled by the intoxication. "Man, I should have just  _killed myself_ when Connor died."

She gasped, light bulb clicking in her brain. " _WAIT,_ what if I  _did_ kill myself when Connor died, and I'm in Hell?  _That_ would explain why I can feel, and why everything _fucking sucks_ _!_ "

She quickly pulls her phone out of her pocket, going to her text messages and clicking on Connor's contact.

_October 4, 22:56_

_(Y/N): Heyyyy con! I think i finally figured out whats wrong w/ me. Im dead and im in hell_

_October 4, 22:58_

_Connor: It's almost 11 at night, (Y/N). Are you... drunk?_

_October 4, 23:02_

_(Y/N): Damn that obvious_

_October 4: 23:07_

_Connor: Honey you aren't dead. Get yourself a glass of water and go to bed, it's been a long day._

She puts the phone back in her pocket before reading his last text, leaning her head back against the oven door. She absentmindedly reached down to pet the dog, something she did whenever she was caught up in her thoughts. His fur was soft underneath her fingers, soothing, and she could only thank whoever was watching for giving her this blessed gift of an animal. He was so patient.

She looks down at her left hand, bruised and scraped from hitting the wall. She ran her fingertips over her bruised knuckles gently, examining every red mark closely. She wanted to focus on anything she could, her wounds were all the proof she needed to know  _she was alive_. Any proof she had was better than none.

She turned her hand over and examined her palms, seeing tiny little crescent-shaped scabs peppering the skin like little moons etched into the surface. Proof that she wasn't dreaming, proof that she wasn't dead, proof that whatever the hell was going on was  _real_.

There were so many questions in her mind, running though her head, disrupting the general peace that  _used_ to be her sanity. Who was that woman? What did she do to her? Why was it all of a sudden she could just go back in time and change the future? How far back could she go? Was it all only connected to her mind? Why did the woman choose her? Why did she pick  _her_ out in a crowd? What made  _her_ so special?

"Why does Connor just-" she slams the side of her right fist into the floor, "keep-" she slams again, "fucking-" and again, "DYING!?"

_"Just remember, everything comes with a price."_

She stops, breath catching in her throat, and she could have sworn her heart stopped beating.  _Wait._ "Everything... comes with a price," she says slowly, vision cloudy as she tries to grasp her thoughts. They were running wild again, frantic, tripping over each other in disarray. He was meant to die that day, by saving him, the balance of the world has shifted. He keeps dying, because he _has_ to die. "Oh, oh  _no._ "

_I can't tell him._

She beat that thought into her head by repeating it over and over again, until she just couldn't keep her eyes open anymore.


	6. More to Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank is fucking tired of all this arguing and tip-toeing around each other, so he takes things into his own hands to make them fucking stop.  
> Connor just wants to understand, and she just wants to be left alone.  
> This can't possibly end well, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit I'm too stoned to fucking DEAL WITH THESE FLIES RN.  
> WHERE DO THEY KEEP COMING FROM  
> NONE OF MY WINDOWS OR DOORS ARE OPEN. hsssssssss sorry I can't concentrate  
> Hope this chapter is to your liking??? It's kinda short, I'm not really all here???? But I wanted to AT LEAST give you guys something idk man  
> sorry if this is shit lmao k thaaaanks :)

The sound of her phone ringing was almost deafening in the silence of the house, waking her up almost instantly. She jumps, hitting her head hard against the oven door behind her. She lets out a string of curses as her hand fumbles for the phone, quickly grabbing it to answer the call. "Ugh, hello?"

"Hey kid, don't come in to work today," Hank grumbles, and she sits forward, rubbing her eyes. Before she can ask what he means, he cuts her off, "I talked to Fowler today, got you and Connor the day off. After yesterday, I think you both need it."

"Hank, I'm completely capable of working-"

"Nope, you aren't talking me into letting you work today. You and Connor need to have a serious talk," Hank cuts her off, giving her little to no time to speak. "Now, you guys need to fucking make up and stop this shit. Understand?"

"What? No!"

"I'm not  _asking_  you to make up with him. I'm  _telling_  you. You two need to  _get your shit together,_ " Hank sneers, and she shuts her mouth, not saying a word in retaliation. He was  _not_  having it today. "Neither of you are allowed back at work until you guys work shit out."

"But-" she starts, but Hank's already hung up. She groans and slumps back against the oven door, closing her eyes. Yeah, this time she  _definitely_ woke up with a hangover. She stays like that for a long time, until a beep from her cellphone alerts her to a text.

_October 5, 9:24_

_Connor: Did you get a call from Hank?_

_October 5, 9:27_

_(Y/N): Yeah, he was being a fucking asshole_

_October 5, 9:28_

_Connor: I'm sure._

_October 5, 9:34_

_Connor: Do you have anything you want to say?_

_October 5, 9:38_

_(Y/N): No, no not really._

_October 5, 9:40_

_Connor: Okay well, I have some things I need to say to you in person. So, can I come over?_

_October 5, 9:41_

_Connor: Rhetorical question, I'm coming over anyways. See you soon._

She stands to her feet, setting the phone on the counter, muttering a stream of curses in response to the text, annoyed but relieved. A day off sounded nice, but talking to Connor sounded... stressful. Because she knew he was going to pester her until she gave in, but in such a serious situation, she  _can't_  give in, and if she really wasn't allowed to return to work unless she made up with him, it seemed like she had no other options.

"I  _can't_ tell him," she tells herself, slowly rising to her feet. Her vision blurred for a split second, causing her to stumble forward before catching herself. She breathed a heavy sigh, bringing a hand to touch her forehead. "I need to reiterate that to myself while he's here. No matter what, I cann _ot_ tell him."

She takes a deep breath, walking over to the sink and turning the knob to cold. She puts her hands under the water and splashes some onto her face a few times to wake herself up completely. After drying off, she goes to the dog's food bowl and picks it up, taking it to the bag of food to pour him some breakfast. She takes the now-filled bowl to where she'd picked it up, petting the dog as he strutted up to the bowl.

"If only boys were as simple as you, pal," she almost laughs to herself as she begins to walk down the hall, until a gentle knock at the door interrupts her, and she turns to face the direction of the sound. She sighs, trudging to the door almost hesitantly, "Fuck, how did he get here so fast?"

If she didn't know better, she would have assumed he was already on his way before he asked. Actually, that is  _totally_  something she could see Connor doing. She shakes the thought from her head as she unlocks the door, opening it only a crack to peak out. "What's the magic word, Connor?"

" _Fucking password,_  right? That's what you and Hank do?" he asks, almost smugly. If he weren't there under pretty shitty circumstances, she would have thought it was funny. She rolls her eyes, opening the door and stepping out of the way to let him in. He walks inside, stopping just shortly past the door. She shuts and locks the door behind them, turning to face him.

"Okay Connor, say what you need to say." Straight to the point. His teeth clench at her harsh tone, and he clears his throat, straightening his tie.  _This fucking dude wore his work clothes on his day off?_  What kind of-

"I hate this," he let out a defeated sigh, slumping his shoulders, visibly deflated. "I hate that you feel like you can't tell me things anymore. I hate that it's so hard to talk to you now, and I hate that you're obviously hurting and that there isn't anything I can do about it. I hate feeling so helpless like this, and I hate that you won't let me in. I hate that you don't talk to me like you used to. And I hate that I  _don't know why._ "

"Connor-"

"No, don't speak, I have more to say," Connor interrupts, taking a step forward. He was trembling, either from rage, adrenaline, fear, or sadness, she couldn't tell. He was a hard character to read, and even now she couldn't read what he was feeling. "Something about you changed the day you saved my life, the first time."

He says that last part a little lower, as if embarrassed he was saved  _twice_  now. Not that it was his fault, necessarily. "You've saved me before on occasion when I've been a bit... reckless..."

"Yet, even then, you didn't  _freak out_ like that. What made this time so different, (Y/N)? When I showed up here yesterday, when you were late, you looked like you had seen a  _ghost!_ "

 _How far off was he?_ She says nothing, staring deep into his brown eyes, unable to form the right words to say.  _I can't tell him the truth._ He stares back, looking for something,  _anything_ he could find in her eyes to tell him what he needed to know. After a few long seconds of silence, his face falls, and he shifts his gaze downward to the floor, completely  _defeated._  

"Please, say something,  _anything_ ," he almost  _whines,_  practically begging her to talk to him. She turned away, wiping the unintentional tears from the corners of her eyes.  _I can't tell him._  He reaches out to her, tears threatening to spill from his own eyes. "(Y/N), I love you."

_"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you..."_

"Connor," she shakes her head, and she can't help the sob that rips itself from her throat. He hisses at himself, moving closer, but stopping before he can get too close. He didn't know if going up to her would make matters worse or not, he had a 50/50 shot of doing this right, and he had to make a choice. "I-I don't-I just-I love you too but I-I just  _can't,_ Connor. I'm sorry."

"Why not?" Connor asks sadly, moving just a little closer to her crying form, reaching slowly for one of her hands before he stops himself.  _I can't tell him._  She says it like a mantra in her head, reminding herself because every word made it harder and harder to keep it a secret. She wanted  _so badly_ to tell him, but if she did, it was bound to end poorly.

"You wouldn't understand," she murmurs, hiccupping through her quiet sobs. "Please, Connor.  _Stop asking,_  it  _hurts._  I want to just go back to the way things were, and act like yesterday  _didn't happen._  Just  _forget it._ "

"Why is it so hard to tell me? I don't care if I don't understand, you can  _tell me,_ " Connor persists, grabbing her wrist and turning her to face him. He looked so  _desperate,_  desperate to know, to understand. "You can trust me."

 _I can't tell him._  She shakes her head, wrenching her wrist away, but he grabs it again, pulling her closer. They're so close they can feel each other's body heat, and her heart beat increases tenfold. Her voice is a trembling whisper, and her eyes dart to the floor, avoiding his piercing gaze. "I could never burden you with this weight, Connor. Please, just let it go."

"You don't have to carry this weight on your own, (Y/N)," he mutters, hand travelling from her wrist to her hand, eyes locked on the reddish-purple bruises along her knuckles. His thumb runs over the bruises gently, the feather-like touch sending shivers up her spine.  _I can't tell him!_

"I'm sorry, Connor. I-I know you want to understand, but darling, this is something I have to deal with on my own," she shakes her head, reaching her free hand up to his cheek. She smiles sadly, tears sliding down her cheeks as she softly strokes his face with her thumb, a similar motion he repeated on her knuckles. "Trust me when I say I can  _handle this._ "

"You know it's hard for me to believe that after seeing you panic like that as soon as you saw my face," Connor sighs, closing his eyes and leaning in to the touch. "I just want to know why."

"I know, and it's killing me," her voice falters, and she looks up at him with broken eyes.  _I can't tell him. I can't tell him. Don't tell him!_ "Knowing that I'm the reason you're so confused, and distressed. Knowing that I can't tell you, and knowing that it'll only make you more confused, and hurt. I'm so sorry, Connor. I'm sorry that I'm doing this to you. It's all so... selfish."

_I just wanted more time with him, that was all. Just one more time to finally tell him everything I wanted to say to him, one more time to just lay in his arms, letting the entire world melt away around us. But I drove him to this, I pushed him away and made him feel terrible. This is my chance to tell him everything I wanted to say then, in that moment, the first time he died._

"I can't tell you what's going on, but don't think for one second that it means I don't trust you. Because I  _do_ trust you. I trust you more than  _anyone,_ I trust you more than  _myself_ ," she moves her hand to brush that unruly tuft of hair out of his face in a loving gesture, eyes downcast and full of sorrow. "No matter what happens between us from today forward, I want you to know that I love you so much. I love you more than anything in the world, and I want you to  _never_  forget what I'm telling you now."

He doesn't say anything, instead, he leans forward until his forehead was resting softly against hers, closing his eyes tight as a few tears fell silently from the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks, one dropping onto her face. He finally gives in, huffing a defeated sigh, "I love you, (Y/N). I-I won't pester you anymore, but if you find that it's too much to handle alone, please, don't hesitate to tell me. I don't mind taking some of your burdens."

"I know, Connor," she lets out a choked laugh, tears spilling from her eyes as she withdrew her bruised hand from his, lifting it up to his other cheek to hold his head in place. "You always were a martyr, weren't you?"

"I suppose," he smiles sadly, lifting his hands to cup her face as well. He swiped his thumbs over her tears, wiping them away. She closes her eyes, taking in a shaky breath, and he leans in impossibly close, breath ghosting across her scabbed lip. "Does that mean I'm going to die?"

"No, Connor," she whispers, lips almost touching his as she does so. "You're not going to die." 

_Not if I can help it, at least._

He finally closes the gap between them, lips on hers, moving slowly, carefully, lovingly. She melts into the kiss as his hand slowly moves to the back of her head, running his fingertips gently through her hair. They don't kiss for long, pulling away just as slowly as they'd started. She looked deep into his brown eyes, seeing as his expression softened for the first time since the morning before she watched him die, since the last morning of peace and normalcy she would probably ever experience. But this was a nice change of pace.

"Then I'm not a martyr, am I?"

"No, I guess not."


	7. Blissful Ignorance is Deadly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this lead is trustworthy, and they actually find the guy they're looking for, they can apprehend him and interrogate him to get any information about the main supplier. They might finally be getting somewhere with this case.
> 
> I wonder, will everything go according to plan? Or is everything going to spiral out of control?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH THIS CHAPTER IS JUST FUCKED.
> 
> THIS IS JUST SO MESSED UP I CAN'T BELIEVE MYSELF  
> IT TOOK ME SIX+ DAYS TO FINALLY POST A NEW CHAPTER AND ITS  
> T H I S.
> 
> IM SO SORRY. I AM SO UNBELIEVABLY SORRY.
> 
> (PERSONAL: FUCK, GUYS, EVERYBODY IN MY REAL LIFE IS FALLING APART)

“So, did you two make up like I told you to?” Hank asks as he walks up to her desk, late as usual. She looks up from the monitor on her computer to her older partner, then glances over at Connor sitting at his own respective desk.

“Yes, Hank, we did. Just like you asked,” she turns her attention back to the screen as Hank walks away, grumbling profanities as he strolls over to his desk beside Connor. She was doing her fucking best to keep herself together, God knows it was a challenge to carry all that weight, but regardless of what false reassurances Connor had to give, she wouldn't put any of that burden on him. He couldn't know that he was supposed to die.

She had a hard time focusing on the computer files, and she couldn't help but wonder if maybe Connor was right when he said that she might not be fit to be a detective anymore. She let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing her temples with her fingers as she stared helplessly at the case on her screen. At some point, Gavin had seen her mild display of annoyance, and decided it would be the  _perfect_ time to bother her about stupid bullshit. "Come back after a breakdown like the one you had at that hostage situation, only to fuck up at work, too? Sure you're still cut out for the job, (Y/N)?"

"Are you sure you're still cut out for  _life,_ Gavin? Because, I mean, I can arrange for you to be  _fired from living_ ," she spat, glaring up at him from her desk. Hank and Connor both had made their way to her as soon as Gavin approached, knowing that whatever he had to say wasn't good, and that whatever  _she_ had to say back was bound to be worse.

"Oh-kayyyy, come on, (Y/N), let's go take a break," Hank says as he shoves past Gavin to walk behind her desk, tugging her up from her seat by her arm. Gavin gives an all-knowing smirk, watching as her older partner forced her outside.

"Maybe you should lay off the alcohol, (Y/N)! Looks like Anderson is  _really_ starting to rub off on you," Gavin calls out to her as she walks away, fuming with every step. Hank scoffs at his comment, ushering her out the doors of the station to the streets outside. She huffs, pulling out the pack of cigarettes Connor took her to buy the other day. 

"When did  _you_ start smoking?" Hank asks as she takes a long cigarette from the pack, putting it up to her lips and lighting. She sucked in a long breath, absently moving the hand not holding her cigarette to her other arm, shivering unconsciously from the brisk October weather. 

"It's a habit I just recently picked up," she says the exact same thing to Hank that she said to Connor when he asked, and Hank only rolls his eyes, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he leans against the wall behind him.

"You know those things are gonna give you cancer, right?" Hank warns, raising an eyebrow at her. She simply shrugs, taking another long drag off the cigarette in between her fingertips. There was the light hint of her pink lipstick stained on the filter of the cigarette as she flicked the ashes to the ground. 

"My job will probably kill me before these fuckers do," she waves the pack in his face to prove her point, soon shoving it back into her jacket pocket. Hank sighs at her cynical display, shaking his head in disappointment. She used to be so  _calm,_ so collected, she understood risks but she still did her best to remain optimistic whenever possible, but something inside her just snapped, and nobody knew what, or  _why._ "So, what's the worst that can happen?"

"Well, I can't argue with that," Hank admits, nodding to her remarks. Things grow blissfully quiet outside as she smokes, attempting to clear her mind of all the shit going through it. For once she just wanted to  _not think._ "Listen, uh, don't worry about Gavin. He just can't help but kick people when they're already down. He isn't worth your threats."

"Keeps me on my toes," she huffs, glancing back at the door. Gavin was one of if not the most infuriating person she had the unfortunate pleasure of working with. Saying that she hated him would be a severe understatement. Why couldn't  _he_ have been the one to die instead of Connor? "Besides, it's funny."

"You're damn right that shit is funny," Hank grins, and it's a rare sight. Hank didn't grin often, hell, he didn't even really  _smile_ very much either, so seeing him in any state  _other_ than a disgruntled, angry state was welcomed. "But still, one day Gavin might try to say something about it to get you in trouble."

"Yeah, and how much fuel do  _I have_ to fire back with?" she points out, causing Hank to think to himself for a moment, before nodding.

"Okay, yeah, you have a point," Hank almost laughs, glad to have her back  _somewhat._  She may not be the same partner he knew only days ago, but she was still his partner, and she didn't change  _too much_. "Just try to tone it down a little bit."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Lieutenant Anderson, (Y/N), but we got a lead on a potential red ice manufacturer. The address isn't  _too_ far from here," Connor interrupts as he approaches the two outside.  "I've got an approved warrant to search the property, we should go check it out."

"Can't even fucking finish my cigarette, can I?" she complains, rolling her eyes as she sighs, dropping the unfinished cigarette to the ground, snuffing out the tip with her shoe. She walked away from the two, heading immediately toward Hank's car. Connor was fast behind her, reaching her in little to no time at all. "So, what can you tell me about this cook, Connor?"

"This is supposedly the manufacturer we've been looking for the past few weeks. We have reason to believe that the drugs found at Johnson's property were made by an older man under the name of Casey," Connor informs as Hank approaches the car, unlocking all the doors so the three could get into their respective places. "I've got to admit, finding Casey's current address was... a challenge."

"Did Johnson give him up?" Hank asks, a slight tone of mild agitation and disgust hidden in the undertones of his voice. Eric Johnson was  _"Doctor Frankenstein"_ , and even hearing the last name made her angry. He was the one who took Connor from her the first time, and derailed the train of her life forever, throwing her into this never-ending cycle of dying. She hated him with every fiber of her being. 

"No, Johnson proved to be useless to the investigation," Connor sighs, turning his head to look out the passenger window. He shakes his head in disappointment, and she grinds her teeth.  _Don't tell me he died for NOTHING._ "He refuses to speak or admit to anything. None of my attempts at interrogating him have worked thus far. I had to switch tactics, and interrogate the suspect from the hostage situation the other day. He was a little easier to persuade."

"Well, at least that sick fuck is finally behind bars for his crimes, and that someone finally gave us some relevant information," for once, Hank was being the optimistic one instead of her, and to Connor, it was a really strange personality swap. "So, I guess it could probably worse, huh?"

"Don't jinx us, Hank," she warns, masking her true concern with a playful tone. Before that horrible day, she wasn't very superstitious. She didn't believe in those superstitions, but after everything she'd seen in the past few days, it was hard to deny that anything was possible. Hank scoffed at her tone, rolling his eyes as he drove to the address Connor had given him. The three detectives said nothing more, listening only to the loud screaming and guitars from Hank's car speakers. It wasn't that she  _hated_ that kind of music, but it did get exhausting to listen to all the time. "God, Hank, is it really necessary to listen to this  _all the time?_ "

"My car, my music, my rules. Heavy metal is the shit," Hank grumbles from the front seat, eyes focused solely on the road in front of them. As if to punctuate the end of his sentence, he turns the already-loud music louder, almost deafeningly so. "So unless we're in  _your_ car, we listen to  _my_ music. You're just too young to be able to appreciate this kind of music."

"I spent my entire childhood listening to this shit, Hank. Try me," she smirks from the back seat, crossing her arms over her chest proudly. Back during high school, she purposefully listened to heavy metal to get out all her teenage angst and hatred at the unfair world in front of her. And at an even younger age, she heard the music from her parents all the time. It was only after some old friends introduced her to other music that she really stopped listening to that old music. "I even went to my fair share of metal concerts with some friends."

"No way, you didn't have friends," Hank scoffs jokingly, glancing back at the rear-view mirror to look her in the eyes for just a moment. "What kind of concert? I bet it was probably one of those "emo" bands singing about break-ups and high school."

"No, actually, I went to a few Slipknot concerts, saw Marilyn Manson once," she hums to herself at the memories of those concerts, getting caught in mosh pits on the lawn, the adrenaline of shoving men much older and bigger than her, listening to metal so loud it shook through her entire body, even being hundreds of feet from the stage. "Oh, yeah! One time when I was at a Rob Zombie concert, Korn was playing for them, and I got punched in the face by a grown-ass man. I wasn't even seventeen yet back then."

"You got punched in the face at a concert?" Connor asks, turning a bit to look back at her from the front seat. It reminded her of when he asked what shampoo she used, right before he died for the first time.  _Died for the first time? That's a weird sentence to think about._ It made her heart tighten in her chest, and the slowly bubbling anxiety began to boil over, but she kept her composure.

"Yeah, it was probably an accident, but it was still really funny," she smiles to hide the growing nervousness in the pit of her stomach. She wanted only to focus on conversation with Connor and Hank, knowing that every calm moment should be savored, for in a matter of seconds, everything could turn to direct chaos. "So, yes Hank, I know the beauty of heavy metal. But it  _still_ gets exhausting to listen to 24/7."

"Okay, you've earned my respect. But that doesn't mean I'm turning the music off," Hank turns the volume knob down just a few notches, but leaves it loud enough to still hear. She couldn't complain about that. Soon, the car returned to a near-silence that was a bit uncomfortable for her, the anxiety of the possibility of losing Connor  _again_ today rippled through her body, making an involuntary shiver tear itself through her body.

"I hope we can finally close this case today," Connor finally speaks up, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Hank nods, tapping his fingers on the wheel absently. "If all goes well today, and we finally get this man in custody, then we might be able to pry him to give up the main supplier. That will be a breakthrough in this case, a breakthrough we  _really_ need."

"Well, don't get your hopes up, Connor. I know you trust this lead, but something about this smells real  _fishy_ ," Hank puts extra emphasis on the word, scrunching his nose up as if he could  _really_ smell something fishy. Oh, good, he had that nervous feeling then, too. At least he was back to being his usual pessimistic self. It made her feel weird when he was optimistic, something didn't feel right when he was like that.

"Yeah, best case scenario, we catch the guy and take him in for interrogation. Worst case scenario..." she trails off, not wanting to even  _think_ about the worst case scenario, knowing that was probably what was going to happen. Life hadn't been too kind to her or Connor, lately. 

"Worst case scenario is we turn up nothing, and the lead is a dead-end," Hank finishes her thought, well, not exactly  _hers_ , but he reassuringly reiterated that the worst thing that could happen was that they got nothing. Yet he knew just as well as she did that the  _true_ worst case scenario was that Connor would be put in danger, putting yet  _another_ strain on their already fragile relationship. But just like her, he didn't want to think about that. 

"Yeah, that," she nods, returning her gaze to the window. Connor could sense the growing nervous vibes coming from his two partners, and he couldn't help but feel just a slight twinge of anxiety in himself as well. He was usually so calm and collected, unafraid of anything, ready for whatever life and his job had to throw at him. But lately he felt different, lately he was more distracted, more nervous about his job. And, it wasn't like he didn't almost die before the past few days, either. There had actually been many other close encounters with death, for all three detectives, but none had affected any of them like the events of the previous three days. What was so different about this time?

"I'm sure we'll end on "best case scenario", I have a  _good feeling_ about this one," Connor lied, smiling to lighten the tense mood. She smiled nervously back, nodding in hopes that Connor might be right. Maybe he'd be right, and that it was just a few rough days, and they'd be back on track in no time at all, but she knew better than to  _actually_ believe that. 

"I hope you're right, Connor," Hank says as he pulls the car to a stop along the side of the curb, turning the key to turn the car off. The three sat inside the car silently, staring at the run-down house. It seemed to be a common trope with the criminals they'd dealt with pertaining to the current case they hadn't been able to close. 

"I hope so, too, Lieutenant," Connor responds professionally, with a quiet undertone of nervousness unable to help itself from creeping through. The three finally stepped out of the car, standing close to each other as they walked up to the house, search warrant in hand. Something about this felt eerily similar to the first day he died; making meaningless chatter in the car, walking up to the shitty house together, the same urge to hold his hand so clearly present. 

They finally reached the door, Hank in front with the two detectives behind him, just like that day. Hank knocked loudly on it, shouting, "Open up, Detroit Police! We have a warrant to search the property!"

Connor could hear the faint, hushed whispers of people inside, and he drew his gun from its holster, taking a step back. She did the same, and so did Hank, looking at Connor expectantly before he aimed at the knob on the door, firing his gun once to force open the door. He pushed through the door first, followed by her, and lastly by Hank. 

What they saw was heart-wrenching.

Three terrified young children, between the ages of 6-10 sat on the living room couch, frozen in fear. They were dirty, clothes covered in soot and dirt, torn, hair matted together, fingers and feet grimy with oils and god-knows whatever the fuck was on the floor. Their eyes were blown wide in terror, trembling at the officers' loaded guns. 

What pissed her off was the sickly-looking man with his hands up in the kitchen, next to the stove. Their father, probably. He was shirtless, skinny, dirty, just like his kids. He was missing a few teeth, and one eye seemed to be a different color than the other. His hair was balding, thin, grayish. She could practically  _see_ the veins and bones under his skin, an obvious methamphetamine abuser. 

The stove was on, and a disgusting smell that was near impossible to describe wafted from the kitchen into the living room, and it took everything in her to not put her arm over her nose to keep the scent from creeping into her nostrils. She shook the thought from her head, aiming her gun at the man. "Step away from the stove."

He slowly obeyed, stepping closer to her, away from the stove. Hank moved closer, reaching a hand out to gently push her behind him protectively, like a father would do to their child in a dangerous situation. What a father  _should_ be like, not like the man currently with his hands up, eyes holding an emotion that was hard to place. Regret? Sadness? Pain? Fear? Hank kept his gun pointed at the suspect, waving to the living room. "Sit down, don't fucking move."

The children whimpered as their father slowly moved to where Hank directed him, scared to  _death_ about what would happen to them. The sight made her heart physically  _hurt_ , and what Gavin said to her today, as well as what Connor said the other day, played back in her mind.  _Maybe I'm really not cut out for this job anymore, after all._

Connor slowly walked away down the hall to check out the rooms one by one, while she and Hank stood guard, making sure the man didn't do anything to jeopardize the mission. Hank had called for reinforcements, while she stood idly by, thoughts shooting from one thing to another as she stared sadly at the three young children. He slowly searched the first room to his left, finding nothing of real value to the case. All he saw were old children's toys and a few blankets on child-sized beds. There was two of them, giving indication that this was the room of two of the small children out in the living room.

He checked the next room, the room to his right, finding it to be a young girl's room, with a pink bed spread covered in stains and dirt, papers all over the floors with child-like drawings indicating abuse, neglect, and sadness. The child's drawings tugged at his heart strings, and he set them back down on the floor, leaving the room just as quickly as he'd entered.

So far, it seemed like he would turn up nothing. All they had to go off of so far was that foul odor coming from the kitchen, until he opened a room and saw what appeared to be a needle and a small baggie of white substance beside it on a night stand. He stepped into the room and examined it without touching it, catching a glimpse of a once-shiny spoon, now burned and destroyed beyond recognition. Signs of heroin abuse.

This was good, he was finally getting somewhere. It might not have been anything connected to the red ice case, but it was enough to have him detained and arrested until they found anything that  _could_ relate to the case. Anything was better than nothing. 

He continued to search the room, seeing a bong and a meth pipe, as well as a torch and a lighter. The room smelled faintly like marijuana, with a slight hint of something more pungent. He thought he recognized the smell as meth, as it would make sense, but he couldn't quite pinpoint the smell, it just wasn't strong enough.

He left the room, gun still drawn in a protective way. There was only one room left to check, excluding the bathroom and a few closets that he would get to later. He opened the door slowly, cautiously, and he steps in, looking up from the floor to see a teenage girl, shaking and frozen in place from pure fear. He quickly lowered the gun, taking a tentative step forward.

"It's okay, my name is Connor, I'm here to help," he reassures her, taking another slow step forward. She was sobbing, tears streamed down her cheeks in rivers, and he stepped ever closer, until he was in reach of her. He shushes her, telling her everything would be okay, that he was there to save her and her younger siblings.

Then, she did something he would have never suspected. She grabbed and disarmed him before he even processed what was happening, having been completely blind-sighted by her fake sadness and tears.  _They seemed so real?_ He started to fight back, but she had disarmed him and had his gun now, so there wasn't much he could do.

She grabbed his hand and knocked the gun out of it, sending it clattering to the ground. He moved to grab the gun, but she was quicker, shoving him off-balance and running to scoop the gun up off the floor, taking it in her hands and pointing it at him.

Without any thought, he immediately lunged at her to grab the gun, and she struggled against him, being much smaller and younger than the trained detective. But, unbeknownst to him, she'd been fighting off horrible older men attacking her for  _years_ , so, she could handle herself perfectly fine. She kicked his right leg out from underneath him, sending him crashing to the floor.

Hank and the other detective heard the commotion, and in an unspoken agreement, she quickly walked down the hall, gun drawn, silently padding her way to the room at the back of the hall where the noises came from.

The teenager forced Connor to his knees in front of her, stopping all his attempts at getting back up to fight for his life with a hard hand on his shoulder. Without uttering a single word to the detective, she presses the tip of the barrel of his very own gun against his forehead, staring coldly deep into his brown eyes. 

(Y/N) barely reached the door to see him knelt in front of the teenager, gun pressed into his head. Her feet moved on their own to stop her, but she was one second too late, and she watched in horror as the trigger was pulled, and blood and brain matter from his head wound splattered onto her clothes behind him. His limp body fell back against her legs and she collapsed behind him with a thud. 

She stared at the bullet hole with a blank expression, grazing her fingers over the wound absentmindedly, ignoring shouts from Hank and the teenager. She closed her eyes, moving her hand down to Connor's chest, feeling no heartbeat. Blood pooled onto her shirt from the hole in his head as she held him close, breathing unnervingly calm. She traced circles into his chest, the sounds of sirens, shouting, crying, all fading away around her as she kept her eyes shut.

_3... 2... 1..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, this is so sad.  
> Alexa, play despacito.


	8. Parallels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What else could possibly go wrong?  
> Oh, right, everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned really fucked, guys, holy shit  
> Warning: teen is killed. a teenager is killed, I'm warning you now so you know.  
> holy shit I'm so sorry.
> 
> (Personal: I had the thought to sign up for medical assistant training next semester at the community college down the street from my house, but I realized that to be a medical assistant I would have to stop smoking.  
> And I JUST got my medical card.  
> So either I stop smoking and go to college to become a nurse, or, I could keep smoking and keep doing absolutely fucking nothing with my life.  
> Oh, decisions, decisions.)

She opened her eyes, looking around the decrepit living room. She tore her eyes away from the terrified children on the couch, turning away to face the hallway. She started to briskly walk by the doors of rooms, going immediately to the last room on the left. She heard Connor's voice distantly, speaking to the teen in the room. She slowly approached, keeping quiet until she heard the sound of his gun clattering to the floor.

She felt another stabbing pain in her temple, worse than before, and her vision grew blurry for a split second before she heard another thud. She shook the sudden haziness from her mind and approached the door, stepping in just as Connor was being forced to his knees. She points the gun at the teenager, hands shaking as she shouts, "Put down the gun!"

"No! You'll take us away and separate us, I know how you people work," the teenager hisses, refusing to lower Connor's gun. The detective didn't back down, aiming the gun at her hands. She didn't want to shoot a teenager, it felt wrong in so many different ways to her, but how else could she save Connor's life, if not by shooting her? "You cops are all the same! All you do is tear families apart!"

"No, we won't. You and your siblings won't be separated, I promise," her voice is shaky as she keeps the gun locked on to her target. The teenager shakes her head, violently trembling as she keeps the gun pointed at Connor's head, ready to pull the trigger. She just needed to stall a little bit longer.

"You'll send us to some foster home or something, right? Put us in a just-as-shitty situation as we're in now?" The teenager scoffs, moving the gun away from Connor to point at the other detective. "You don't know that they won't separate us. They'll probably send each of us to different families, and I'll never see them again. Those fucking monsters don't give a shit about kids like us."

"If you put the gun down, we can talk about this-"

"I don't want to fucking talk! My shitty fucking dad is out there, about to get arrested for all the horrible shit he's done, and my little brothers and sister are sitting there with guns pointed at them! By fucking pieces of shit cops, like  _you,_ " the teen sneers, finger twitching by the trigger. "You couldn't possibly fucking understand what I'm going through now."

_"Detroit police, freeze!" a gruff voice shouts, and the thin, lanky figure standing in the middle of the room froze in place, hands held high in the air. Her eyes widened upon seeing the terrified suspect, and she found herself paralyzed. "Hold your fire!" she shouts, and the suspect looked into her eyes desperately, before he charged at her with a fear so clearly present upon his features. One of the officers accompanying her fired his gun three times at the suspect, and he fell to the ground. She ran to him and scooped him up into her arms, staring into the face she'd known for her whole life. She knew he made his mistakes, but that didn't mean he wasn't still her family, even if she was a detective now, and he was a dealer. "No, no, no."  He looked up at the young, rookie detective with regret-filled eyes, coughing blood onto his own clothes. "(Y/N), why?" he asks, wheezing his last breath._

"I may not have gone through exactly what you have, but I know how it feels to lose someone so important to you."  _Connor, my cousin, my best friend._ She gulps, hands still shaking as she tried to deescalate the situation. "You feel empty, and lost, and all you want is to go back and change the mistakes that all led up to this. I know that same feeling, even if it may be for different reasons. I know I'm just a cop to you, and that you feel like you can't trust me, but believe me when I say that  _we can help you._ "

"Nobody can help me now. It's too late for that," the teenager mutters, raising Connor's gun just enough to point at the detective's forehead. She took a deep breath, taking one quick glance at Connor before shutting her eyes, bracing herself for the sudden void of death. The teen's finger twitches again, and a loud gunshot rings in her ears, and she realizes someone else had been shot.

She opens her eyes, seeing the slumped over body of the teenager, eyes rolled back in her head, bullet wound in between the eyes. She turned fast to look behind her, seeing fucking Gavin Reed standing with his gun raised right behind her. He lowers his gun, looking the detective dead in the eyes, a flash of worry crossing through his eyes before being replaced by that cold, evil stare. "Holy shit, you just shot a fucking teenager!"

"She was going to kill you, it's not like she gave me much of a fucking choice," he defends, raising his voice like he so often did. Connor rose to his feet, turning away from the dead teen to face Gavin. 

"As much as I dislike Detective Reed, I have to reluctantly agree with his decision. If he hadn't done what he did," Connor pauses, shaking his head, "I don't want to even  _think_ about what might have happened."

"I don't need  _you,_ of all fucking people, to defend my actions," Gavin spat, jabbing a finger into Connor's chest. Connor doesn't even flinch, just lets himself get pushed back a few steps. Hank had run immediately to them upon hearing the gunshot, leaving a few of the officers to watch the father and calm the crying children on the couch.

"Whoa, whoa, what the fuck is going on, here? What happened?" Hank stomps his way to them and yells over everyone, making the three turn to the Lieutenant with their respective looks; anger, defensive rage, and shock. 

"Gavin just  _killed a teenager!_ " she shouts, pointing an accusing finger at Gavin. She felt tears well up in her eyes as they narrowed, and she clenched her teeth tightly, grinding them painfully against each other.  _When I wanted to save Connor, I didn't want that teenager to die!_ Hank turns to face the doorway she and Connor were standing in, and he shoves past them quickly to see the body, Connor's gun not far from her dead hand.

"Oh fuck, what the fuck," Hank breathes, putting his left hand on the door frame to steady himself. Connor turned to face Hank to speak, but she put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, whispering "don't", and shaking her head. "What the fuck happened here?"

"She was going to shoot (Y/N)! What else was I supposed to do?" Gavin yells defensively. She shakes her head and leans against the wall, lifting a hand to her forehead. "Let her die!?"

"No! But was it  _really necessary_ to shoot her in the fucking head!?" Hank yells back, turning to face the detective. Connor's jaw tightens and he backs himself into the wall at the very end of the hallway, not far from the confrontation. "I mean, for  _God's sake,_ Gavin, she was just a  _teenager!_ "

_Should I go back and save her? What will happen if I stop Gavin? Will she shoot me? Will she shoot Connor? Will she shoot Gavin?_ So many things were running a million miles an hour inside her head, it almost hurt.  _Maybe I can talk her in to trusting me before Gavin comes, maybe I can save her._ Her thoughts began to drown out the aggressive arguing between Hank and Gavin, becoming garbled sounds around her as questions flashed through her brain like lightning strikes in a bad storm.  _Every time I go back the pain in my temple gets worse. How many times am I willing to go back to get this right?_

"Holy shit, I can't believe this," Hank says in disbelief, feeling sick to his stomach. It was hard to believe that a teenager disarmed Connor and threatened to kill (Y/N), only for Gavin to swoop in and shoot her dead. Everything about that situation felt wrong to him, especially considering she was just a tormented young teenager with a shitty father and a shitty life.

Connor looked over at her, leaned against the wall with her head in her hands. He steps carefully behind Gavin and goes to stand in front of her, hands rubbing together nervously. "(Y/N), I know this may be a stupid question, but are you okay?"

"No, I'm not. How can I be? She was just a disturbed kid, Connor. She may have had a gun pointed at my forehead, but she didn't deserve to be shot dead  _by Gavin fucking Reed,_ " she hisses, lifting her head from her hands to look up into his worried brown eyes. He takes her hands in his, rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs, a gesture that usually worked in calming her down. "She was just a kid."

"I know this is a very grim situation. I am also a bit," Connor pauses, glancing over to the ongoing argument between Lieutenant Anderson and Detective Reed before returning his gaze to her troubled eyes, "shaken by the entire thing. Maybe we should go outside and breathe for a second, collect ourselves."

She didn't say anything, simply just moving on her own down the hall, hand still in Connors, practically dragging him behind her. He quickly settles into a steady rhythm of walking beside her in sync as they enter the living room. The three children were sobbing uncontrollably on the couch, huddled together as two officers knelt in front of them, shushing and cooing them to calm them down. The father was crying, too, face downcast, eyes staring brokenly at the dirty floor, silent tears falling down his face as he sat in the seat Hank forced him to sit in earlier.

The father looked up at her and Connor, and she looked down at him for a second, instantly regretting her decision. His face grew cold, and his voice trembled with a venomous hatred as he spoke softly, only loud enough for her and Connor to hear. "You monsters fucking killed my baby girl. You killed her, my darling, baby girl..."

She quickly turned away, hurrying out the front door to the lawn outside. She ripped her hand away from Connor's, moving it to cover her eyes as tears spilled over them, guilt shooting through her entire body. Connor moved closer, reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder. "(Y/N), it wasn't your fault. You did everything you could do in that situation."

_"You told them to hold their fire. You did everything you could have done in that moment. That isn't your fault."_

"He didn't even give her a chance," she shook her head, furiously wiping at the tears that wouldn't stop flowing.  _How many people are going to die because of me?_ Connor turned her to face him, moving his hands up to cup her face.

"And Gavin is the one who has to live with that," Connor says gently, tilting her head up to look him in the eyes. His eyes held a certain sincerity, pushing all blame on Gavin. After all, he was the one who fired the shot that killed her. "Gavin is going to remember this day for the rest of his life. Gavin is going to regret this day for the rest of his life. None of that is on you."

"Somehow, knowing that, doesn't make me feel better at all."

* * *

Connor offered to walk her to her car after their reports had been filed. She was too tired to say no. So, the two walked in a weird silence to her car in the dark. They'd stayed late to finish the paperwork, and had been two of the last people to leave the station that night. Once she reached the car, she turned to face Connor. "Thanks for walking me to my car, I guess."

"Of course, it was my pleasure," Connor responds, nodding in approval. She scoffs quietly, turning to the driver's side door to open it, but Connor stops her. "Wait, if I may, I don't think you should be staying at home alone tonight."

"Uh, why not? I'm a big girl, Connor, I don't need a babysitter," she crosses her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow at him. He clears his throat and straightens his tie, moving to stand up straight.

"I'm aware, but in your state, I think staying alone may be dangerous," Connor admits, rubbing his hands together anxiously. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head at the detective in front of her.

"Christ, Connor, what do you think is gonna happen if you leave me by myself? Fridge fall on top of me and kill me? My dog suddenly turns feral and attacks me?" She says sardonically, putting her hands on her hips. "What, do you think I'm gonna kill myself?"

"There's a possibility, yes."

"Connor, I'm not going to kill myself. Where'd you get that thought from?" She looks at him quizzically, keeping her hands resting on her hips. His shoulders visibly fall, and his picture-perfect posture dissolves into a slightly hunched over position.

"We both witnessed a very traumatic event, (Y/N), it's only natural to feel... suicidal, after seeing such heartbreaking things," Connor sighs sadly, directing his gaze at the asphalt beneath their shoes. Her face falls, and her hands take themselves off her hips to move to grab his hands, taking a step closer to Connor.

"Oh, Connor, you aren't feeling suicidal, are you?" she asks, voice suddenly laced with concern. He shakes his head, refusing to meet her stare, squeezing her hands in his own. 

"No, I'm not," Connor insists, closing his eyes for a second and taking a deep breath before bringing his head up to look at her. "But, I saw how you looked earlier. You weren't afraid to let that teenager kill you. And when you saw her, the look on your face was devastating. I just-I know it's irrational of me to believe that you aren't safe tonight, but I really would feel a lot better if you would let me stay with you, to make sure you really are okay."

"Connor," she lets out an exasperated breath, looking down briefly to look at their hands. His hands were so much bigger than hers, and hers had bruises and scratches from her previous few days. Her hands were much less pretty than Connor's. She looks back up at him, seeing how his eyes practically  _begged_ for her to let him stay. "Fine, you can stay, but  _only_ tonight, okay?"

"Okay," Connor nods, letting go of her hands and stepping back. "I'll meet you there, is that alright?"

"That's fine," she says dismissively, turning back to her car door. He nods and turns to walk away, toward the direction of his own car. She sighs and shakes her head at her partner, opening the door and sliding into the driver's seat. "Fucking Connor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK IM SORRY NONE OF THAT WAS MY ORIGINAL INTENTION I JUST STARTED WRITING AND THAT'S JUST WHERE MY BRAIN DECIDED WHERE TO TAKE THIS.  
> I FELT REALLY FUCKING BAD WHEN I WROTE THIS  
> IM SO SORRY GUYS, FUCK.  
> JUST. OH MY GOD. (T-T )  
> i'm so sorry oh my god.


	9. Broken Record

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems like the more she goes back to save Connor, the more he dies.  
> How is he going to die, this time?
> 
> (Repeating "I love you" like a broken record)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't fucking write summaries lmao
> 
> I don't think that the second half of this chapter can make up for what I've done to them the past few chapters. smh
> 
> (also ps for those of you who read this at the start ya'll might wanna go back and re-read, I fixed the way it sounds and added a little more description so I think the previous chapters sound much better now)

The car pulls into the driveway with a loud whine, worn out breaks that needed to be replaced being the source of the noise. She had the intention to go to a mechanic shop to get them changed sometime that week, but she'd been so preoccupied with all of Connor's bullshit that she pushed all of that to the back of her mind.  _My breaks can wait._

She stepped out of the car, taking her bag with her and manually locking the car door before shutting it. She looked around for any indication that Connor was almost there, and found none. She shrugged, paying it no mind as she walked up the path to the front door, fumbling with her set of keys before finding the one with a small blue strip of tape on it; her house key. She put the key in the lock and turned it, unlocking the door in record time, pushing it open to walk inside.

She strutted over to the kitchen, setting her bag and keys down on the nearest counter. She looked up at the front door from her current position, waiting for the moment Connor would knock on her front door and interrupt whatever she may have been doing at that point. She turned away from the door and walked over to grab the water bowl for the dog to refill it. She takes it to the sink and dumps out the dirty water, rinsing the metal bowl twice before filling it to the top with cool water. 

After setting the water down, she grabs the food bowl, taking it to the bag of dog food. She looks back at the door again, wondering  _what on Earth is taking Connor so long?_ She shakes her head with a sigh, returning her attention to the task at hand. Something felt wrong about how late it was starting to get, with no word from Connor. "Maybe he just decided to go back to his apartment instead."

The distant sound of police sirens came closer and closer, getting louder until they were practically right behind her house on the main road. It wasn't new to hear the sound of police sirens and ambulances in the area, something was always going on in her neighborhood, so it was nothing new. But something about the sirens being so close, and staying that close, when Connor  _still_ hadn't arrived or told her anything, made her skin crawl. 

She dug through her pocket to find her cell phone, immediately dialing Connor's number and pressing "call". It rang for a long time, and with each ring she only grew more worried, concerned, afraid. 

"Hello, my name is Connor. I seem to be unavailable at this moment, but if you leave your name and number, I will make an attempt to reach you as soon as possible. Thank you."

She hung up the phone, looking out the back door to see the somewhat faint red and blue flashing lights. She gulped, quickly dialing the next-best person in her contact list. The phone rang four times, before the low grumble of Hank's voice picked up. "What is it, brat?"

"Have you heard from or seen Connor at all since you left the station?" She asks quickly, voice laced with concern. He shakes the tiredness from his mind at the tone of her voice, and even he can hear the faint sound of the sirens behind her house through the speaker.

"No, I haven't. Do I hear police sirens in the background, (Y/N)? Are you at a crime scene, or at home?" Hank questions, sitting upright. His voice was suddenly caked in worry, and she shakes her head, sitting down at the dining room table. She stares at the front door, hoping,  _waiting_ for Connor's gentle knock to come, but it never came.

"I'm at home, I don't know what all that commotion is about, do you think I should go check?" She turns in the chair to look back out the back window at the flashing lights. It was probably not even a block away from her house, it would only take her a few minutes if she walked, even less if she ran. 

"Okay, but be careful, it's been a dangerous fucking week. Call me when you find out," Hank mutters, ending the call without another word. She takes a deep breath and grabs her keys off the table, opening the door and stepping out into the cold, rainy night. She locks the door behind her and starts walking toward the lights, quickening her pace when she sees the front end of a black car. Soon, the rest of the car is in view, and she freezes in place.

"No, no, no no no," she breathes, pressing her back against the brick wall behind her, staring at the crash. Connor's car was wrapped around a tree, windshield shattered, blood seeping from the driver's side door. Some of his windows were blown out from the impact of the accident, the tree trunk was pushed into the left side of the car, killing the driver, killing  _Connor._   _What the fuck happened?_ She slid down the brick wall, putting her head in her hands and pulling her knees to her chest. "I can't fucking believe this. Of all things, it's  _this!?_ What kind of cruel game are you playing, God?"

Thoughts race through her mind as she thinks of any way she can prevent this car accident. She didn't even know what happened, how was she expected to stop it? Was this going to be the end of it all? Would she finally just let Connor go?  _No, I won't! I told him he wasn't going to die, I intend on keeping my word._

"Maybe I can get him to leave his car at the station and ride home with me," she says to herself, glancing back at the horrible accident in front of her. She nods to herself, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, re-imagining herself back in that moment right before she agreed to let Connor stay.

_3... 2... 1..._

* * *

Her eyes snap open when she hears Connor's voice asking if she was alright. She shook her head, looking up at him with blurry vision before it quickly focused on his gorgeous brown eyes. "(Y/N), are you alright? You blanked out and closed your eyes, I thought maybe you passed out?"

"No, Connor, I'm fine," she assures, faking a smile. The sudden stabbing sensation in her temple came more painfully this time than any other time, and she groaned, taking her hands from his and moving it to press her fingers to the spot. She could feel the throb underneath her fingertips, and she wondered when  _the fuck_ the pain would cease. It lasted longer than any of the previous times as well, and that bothered her. 

"You clearly are not fine. What's wrong with your head?" He asks, moving her fingers away from her temple and replacing them with his own, brushing ever so lightly against the spot. She lets out a shaky sigh, letting her hands fall to her sides. 

"I've just been getting small sharp pains right there sometimes, it doesn't last long. I'm fine," she smiles reassuringly up at him as the pain finally subsides, and he brings his hand to rest on her cheek. She leans into his touch, and he proceeds to drag his thumb slowly in circles. "I promise."

"Well, this just furthers my point that you shouldn't be alone tonight," Connor sighs, dropping his gaze to the concrete. She laughs breathlessly, shaking her head at the troubled detective. She reaches her hand up to gently take his hand in hers, forcing it away from her face and to his side. She kept her fingers laced with his, moving her free hand to rest on his slumped shoulders.

"Okay, okay, you can stay," she smiles warmly up at him,  _genuinely smiles,_ and it seemed to be the gold that filled the cracks of his heart, repairing all the damage from the past few days, if only for one night. He was glad he looked at her as she spoke, or else he would have missed that beautiful smile, the way the corners of her lips twitched up, and the way her eyes held deep adoration, replacing the shattered brokenness that he'd seen in her eyes too often. "Only tonight, though."

"Okay," Connor nods, letting go of her hands reluctantly, moving to take a tentative step back. "I'll meet you there, is that alright?"

"No!" she answers suddenly, grabbing his hand before he can get too far away. He gives her a puzzled look, tilting his head at her. Her eyes widen, and she lets go of his hand, clearing her throat. "Um, I mean, y-you should just ride with me, in my car. It'll just be easier on the both of us."

"What about my car? I can't just leave it here at the station," Connor mentions, taking a slow step toward her.  _I can't let him go drive, I don't know if he'll just do the same thing over and over unless I stop it somehow. I can't risk it, I have to convince him!_

"It'll be fine, Connor, Hank does it all the time," she insists, bringing up the lieutenant to further her point. She knew that, deep down, no matter how much he would deny it, he looked up to the older man, saw him like a father-figure, in a way. And she knew that Hank saw him like a son, too, no matter how many times Hank calls him an asshole. "Your car will be just fine here until tomorrow."

"Are you sure it's okay to just leave it here?" Connor asks nervously, eyes darting around the parking lot. She takes a step forward, grabbing his hand and squeezing reassuringly, a gesture she thought she'd never get to repeat. 

"Yes, Connor, I'm sure," she smiles when he relaxes, giving in. He sighs, taking his hand from hers. He shakes his head as he walks to the passenger's side door, waiting for her to unlock it.

"Okay, well, if I find myself in Captain Fowler's office tomorrow because I left my car here all night, I'm blaming you," he pouts as he finally gets in, shutting the door behind him. She just laughs and rolls her eyes, sliding into the driver's seat and setting her bag on the floor by his feet.

"Oh my God, Connor. You're so strait-laced and dramatic," she insults jokingly, lightly punching his arm. He can't help the smile that pulls at his lips, and his heart flutters in his chest. She was almost acting like she used to, little ticks and quirks that disappeared with their recent hiccups finally reappearing again, that strange behavior quickly dissolving back into the person he knew, the person he loved, and adored more than anything or anyone in the entire universe. He missed being able to relax and unwind with her, laughing and making jokes like the world around them wasn't falling apart.

"I'm a  _detective_ , (Y/N), of  _course_ I'm strait-laced," Connor replies sarcastically as she turns the key in the ignition. The car purrs to life and she flips the switch to turn the headlights on, laughing as she does so. "You're such an unorthodox detective, (Y/N), it surprises me that your disciplinary folder isn't as long as Lieutenant Anderson's."

"Oh, wow, now  _that_ is just cruel, Connor," she mocks offense, taking one quick glance at him before backing out of the parking spot to finally go home. He laughs softly, a small smile gracing his lips. "I'm not  _that_ unorthodox in my profession! I only break the stupid rules."

"Which are all of them?" Connor quirks a brow, smile twisting into a devious smirk at his comment. He picked up on how she liked to joke around after working with her for so long, and even now it amused him greatly. 

"No! God, I don't break  _every_ rule that exists, you just follow every single rule down to the very  _word_ ," she teases, turning onto the main road from the station. "Plus, I'm like, 90% sure that there's no rule about leaving your car at the station. But, you know every rule in the handbook, so maybe you can recite the rule for me, if it's there."

"I don't have every rule memorized, (Y/N). I have more  _pressing_ matters than to read over every word of the handbook and memorize  _every rule,_ despite what rumors you may have heard," Connor jokes, crossing his arms over his chest. "I am a detective, after all."

"You know, I bet you were one of those strict by-the-book kids who kissed their teachers' asses for approval and grades in school, huh?" She mocks jokingly, raising an eyebrow. She tries to stay poker-faced and stare at the road, but she can't help the smile that came from roasting her friend. 

"Oh, you know it," Connor laughs, eyes crinkling as he does so. He looks at her as she keeps her eyes focused on the road, while still listening and chatting with him. "And I bet  _you_ were the kid who didn't care about what anyone thought of you, and did whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted, without anyone's approval."

"You think that  _I'm_ a  _rebel_ , Connor? Precious, sweet  _me?_ A  _rebel?_ Wow, that's bold of you to assume," she stifles a laugh, shaking her head. "Actually, I was pretty tame. I did what I thought was right at the time, and most of the time it proved to really be the right thing to do, but I was still a bitch when I had to be. So, yeah, pretty tame."

"Did you have a lot of friends?" he asks, suddenly interested. She never really told him anything about herself from  _before_ she became a police officer, in the very beginning. 

"I don't know, did you?" She counters, deflecting the question off her to him. He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow curiously, smirking to himself. He shrugs, turning away to face the windshield.

"I tried to make a lot of friends, I was really polite and talkative to everybody, but you know how I sound. It bugged people, so no matter how nice I was to people, nobody really wanted to be my  _friend_. But I didn't mind. Being alone was actually pretty nice," he smiled to himself, knowing that he always tried his best to be the nicest and most lovable person he could be. He didn't care if people didn't accept him for who he was, because  _he_ accepted himself.  _[wow, how _cliche.]__

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I wasn't popular. Like I said, I was still a bitch when I had to be, and some people really fucking hated me. But some people loved me, because they thought I was funny as fuck. So really, it depended on how I felt about you. If you were a bitch, I was going to treat you like one. I didn't go to school to be friends with people. If I made a friend, great, cool, now I won't be alone. But I didn't have time for all that stupid nonsense where people hated you and wanted you to go to hell, I just told those people to fuck off, because life is short and I'm not going to be angry about this."

"Huh," Connor muttered, letting every word sink in.  _She wasn't wrong about life being short._ He thought about those close-calls, where it was like she knew exactly what to do before he knew, where he almost died but was saved at the last minute? It was almost every day now.  _How did she know what to do?_ "I never thought about life that way."

"Yeah, but somehow I still let fucking Gavin get under my skin," she growls, tightening her grip on the wheel at the name. She thinks about the way he mocked her when she was yelling at Connor, the way he questioned her capability of being a detective, the fact that he  _killed a fucking teenager._ It all made her so angry, angry at the world, angry at Gavin, angry at herself. "I say all this high-and-mighty shit, but truth is, I can't even follow my own fucking advice."

"Honestly, he gets under my skin too, sometimes. Sometimes, I want to hit him, or take him down, or just do something mean. I don't like letting him walk all over me, letting him treat me like I'm less than him," Connor admits, turning his head to look out the window. She sighs, nodding to him in agreement. She felt like that too, sometimes, whenever she would hear him say stupid mean shit to degrade Connor.

"But you're  _better than him,_ " she states firmly, taking her right hand off the wheel to grab his left, tangling her fingers with his. He can't help but blush at her sweet and genuine compliment, it sent electricity up his spine, and filled him with a golden warmth throughout his entire body.  _He was better than him._ "And you'll  _always_ be better than him."

"I love you," he says suddenly, and it catches her off-guard. She stops at the red light ahead, and turns to face him for a moment, hand still in his tightly, like he would disappear if she let go. He looks away from the window to look at her, and he squeezes her hand back, and repeats the phrase. "I love you."

"I love you too, Connor," she smiles, reluctantly turning away when the green light shines in her peripherals to continue driving. She would stare into those beautiful eyes forever if she could. "More than you know."

His heart felt like it could stop in that moment, hearing those words, hearing the sincerity and adoration in her voice. He hadn't been able to talk to her like this for  _days,_ she was speaking so freely now, pouring out all her emotions to him, her thoughts, her love. She was finally talking to him normally again, like things weren't fucked up and different now. He never wanted it to end, he never wanted to stop talking to her, listening to her, being with her. 

She past the tree Connor's car was wrapped around, and she gulps, but shakes the vision from her mind and turns onto the street just before the one her house was on. She finally turned onto her street and approached her house, turning into the driveway with a loud whine, the worn-out breaks being the culprit of the noise. Connor grimaces at the sound, turning to face her. "Maybe you should get your breaks fixed, (Y/N)."

"Yeah, I know, it's on my list of things to do," she nods, turning the key and taking it out of the ignition, reaching down to grab her bag until she noticed that Connor had already grabbed it off the floor and held it out to her. She smiled awkwardly and blushed, taking the bag from his hands and turning to step out of the car. He smiled, getting out and shutting the car door behind him, waiting for her to lock the car and join his side.

She finally stands beside him, and he makes the small movement to take her hand in his, walking up the path to the house with her slowly. She fumbles with the keys until she feels the tape on her house key, which she quickly inserts and unlocks the front door. She pushes the door open and walks inside the dark house, turning on the light by the front door. "You can stay in the guest bedroom tonight, if you want. It's right next to mine."

"Thanks," he says simply, a small smile gracing his features for a moment. He closes the door behind him and locks it, turning back to face her again. She's rubbing her arm nervously and looking off to the side, away from him.  _She's being shy because I'm staying the night,_ he thinks to himself, internally smirking at his discovery.  _How cute._  

He slowly approaches her, stopping only when he's close enough that he was considered to be in her personal space. He set his hands softly on her shoulders, running them down with feather-like touches until they were at her hands, scabbed and bruised from intense stress, but still perfect and beautiful to him. Every flaw, every cut and bruise, battle wounds from the danger of their job, it was all perfect to him.

She swallowed hard as he gently rubbed circles over her bruised knuckles, bluish-purple reminders of how far she'd come in those few miserable days. She turned her head to look at him, and saw him staring at their intertwined hands, at her bruises, and scrapes. His voice is a low whisper when he speaks, and she barely catches what he says, but she still hears. "You're beautiful."

"W-what?" she whispers back, and she wonders why they're both speaking so low, like the only people that should hear their loving words are each other, and no one else. 

"Everything about you is beautiful," he keeps his voice just as low as before, leaning his head down to be closer to hers, breath ghosting over her lips. "Your soft hair, the way you look at me, your silky voice, and smooth skin; everything you say, do, and are is the definition of beauty in my eyes. Even down to every last imperfection, scar, and bruise. You're beautiful, and you always will be."

"I love you, Connor," her voice is breathless, and she has to tilt her head up just slightly to look up into his eyes. He takes one hand from hers, leaving the other to remain locked in a loving grip with hers, and brings it up to her cheek, brushing a strand of hair from her lovely face. She shivers at the light touch, and hesitantly moves her free hand to gently grace the side of his neck, just below his jaw. "I'll say it a million times, every day for the rest of my life."

"You're my everything," he mutters to her, only to her, and he moves his hand to cup the side of her face, leaning in until their lips were almost touching. "I want to hear you tell me you love me, that you need me, that you'll never leave me, because I love you, I love you so much, I never want to leave you."

"I love you," she whispers again, slowly running her hand from his neck to rest on his shoulder. He squeezes her hand still in his lightly, using his other thumb to rub circles against the skin on her cheek. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

_"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."_

He presses his lips to hers gently, kissing her slowly, like time didn't matter to him. And for once, it didn't. For once he didn't care about time, about his other obligations, about his responsibilities. For once all he focused on, all he cared about, was the woman in front of him, the one whispering  _I love you_ over and over again, to him, to only him. 

The world melted away as his eyes fluttered shut, his other hand finally unlatching itself from hers and settling on her hip, fitting perfectly. It was like she was made for him, made to fit perfectly against him, like the piece of a beautiful puzzle. Her lips parted with a gasp, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss. She moved her other hand to his neck, wrapping her arms around behind it and stepping up on her tip-toes to meet him half-way. 

He would pull away for a few seconds, only to resume where he left off after taking a few short breaths. In between kisses, she would whisper  _"I love you"_ to him, which only spurred him on further.

Everything that had gone wrong and ruined her sanity the past few days faded away from her mind, watching him die so many times, being forced into even shittier situations,  _Gavin fucking Reed,_ all of them dissolved into nothing as she focused on Connor, the way he made her feel, the way his whispers sounded almost  _desperate,_ and nothing mattered in that moment except for him, except for Connor.

"I love you, Connor," she whispers breathlessly, and he presses a soft kiss to her cheek. "I need you, Connor," he presses another kiss to her temple. "I'll never leave you, Connor," he captures her lips in his again, kissing her like he would never get another chance. She takes a shaky breath when he pulls away again, shifting her eyes to look up at him. "Hold me tight and never let me go."

"I wouldn't dream of it, (Y/N)..."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmmmmm can you guess what's going to happen next?  
> comment what you guys are thinking, i'm curious  
> I wanna see how far off we are
> 
> (ps. i was listening to smooth jazz when i wrote this. idk why i felt like that was relevant information to share but hey, man, its good music. It's aesthetic af. if you haven't heard it before you should check it out, its pretty relaxing if you find the right stuff.)


	10. Too Late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SUCH A FUCKING HORRIBLE PERSON OH MY GOD  
> ALSO SORRY THIS CHAPTER IS A FEW HUNDRED WORDS-1000 WORDS SHORTER THAN I WANTED IT TO BE BUT I HAVE TO LEAVE IT LIKE THIS IM SORRY  
> THE END IS JUST 2GOOD TO MAKE IT LONGER
> 
> IM ALSO TOO LAZY TO PUT A SUMMARY IM SORRY
> 
> (PS. I got my medical card (for marijuana) a few days ago and I went to the dispensary today and got a free chocolate bar! I JUST ate one little piece from it a minute ago (half way through writing this chapter) and it hasn't hit yet. But in 45 minutes it's gonna hit, and I'm gonna be FUCKED UP lmao)

The car pulled to a stop across the street from the building in question, bright blue and red flashing lights illuminating the otherwise dark evening. On the roof of the fifteen-story building was a girl, dress flapping against the winds of being up that high. 

"Please, come down safely!" an officer says through a megaphone, calling up to the suicidal girl. Hank, Connor, and (Y/N) all stepped out of the car, looking up at the girl, who seemed to be hesitating. She yelled something down back at the officers, but nobody could quite understand just what she said. "There's other options, we can help you!"

She yelled back again, a quiet, distant voice from high above them. She shook her head and shuffled just a little closer to the edge, toes off the concrete of the ledge at this point. "Lieutenant, if I can get up to the top of that roof, I can talk to her face to face and convince her to come down."

"You aren't going up on that roof, Connor. That just spells trouble," Hank grumbles, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Look at how many close-encounters with death you've gotten just this week  _alone,_ son."

"I told you guys, it's been a bad week!" Connor exasperates, and Hank rolls his eyes, shaking his head at him. "I  _know_ I can do this! What's the worst that could happen? It's not like she's a murderer."

"So? You'll be up on a roof fifteen stories high! What if you fall?" Hank questions, eyes narrowing. Connor's shoulders slump as he pouts, crossing his arms. How could they treat him like he didn't know what he was doing? It was just an off week! "You're staying down here, on the ground with me, and (Y/N) will go up to the roof and save the girl. Understood?"

"That isn't fair, Lieutenant! I'm a  _negotiator,_ this is my job! At least let me go with her," Connor argues, and she just blocks the arguing out, staring up at the distressed girl in white on the roof. 

"Yeah, well, for being the  _best negotiator in Detroit,_ you almost die a lot," Hank retorts, crossing his arms as well.

"We're wasting time, Lieutenant. I'm going in," she finally breaks up the conversation, getting both partners' attention. She turns to walk away, but Connor grabs her arm and stops her for a second. "Connor-"

"Let me come with you," Connor insists, squeezing her arm just slightly. She sighs and mutters "whatever", continuing to the door of the building. She pushes the glass door open, stepping inside the seemingly fancy building. The floor was marbled tile, a rose-gold color, giving off the vibe that the building was an expensive one. There was a chandelier in the center of the main area, and both she and Connor began to scan the room for stairs. 

They took a few steps down a hallway, passing by white wooden doors with pretty metal numbers until they found a heavy metal door at the very end of the hall, leading to the back stairwell. "Bingo, Connor."

They pushed past the heavy metal doors to the stairway, immediately beginning to climb 15 stories up. The steps of the stairs were concrete, as well as the walls of the stairwell. The metal support bar was painted black, and the paint was chipped just slightly, revealing a reddish metal underneath in some places. On the wall of each story was the number of the story you were on, a giant black number on a plain white slate, hanging near the door of each exit. "Holy shit, why didn't we just find a fucking elevator or something?"

"The stairs are more efficient, (Y/N), if we took the elevator, we might not make it to her in time," Connor says between breaths as they reach floor seven. Up seven flights of stairs in one and a half minutes, one and a half minutes that the girl is still up on the roof, one and a half minutes wasted. "Besides, the elevator doesn't even reach the roof, it only goes to the fifteenth floor, which means we would still have to get onto the roof after exiting the elevator. These stairs should lead us directly to the roof if we pass floor fifteen."

"Jesus Christ, Connor," she pants, stopping on a step half way up to floor eight. Connor was past her, continuing up the stairs by skipping a step between steps, already almost to floor nine. "It's like you have unlimited energy, dude."

"I simply have long legs, which makes it easier for me to skip steps and get up stairs faster than others," Connor admits, stopping and waiting for her at floor nine. She joins him quickly, running past him to keep up her momentum that she lost. He turns and follows after her, climbing up the last five floors to the fire escape. With a breathless heave, she pushes the large metal door open and steps out onto the roof, hair blowing slightly in the wind. The girl was much closer now, and she could see her much better from this close versus all the way down on the ground.

"Please, don't do it," she says quietly, taking slow steps to approach her. She turns, almost losing her balance, but managing to keep herself upright. Dry streaks from where tears used to be streaming were on her cheeks like little cracks in her skin. Her eyes were a misty blue, and her hair was short and red. She didn't look very old, in her early 20s, maybe? "Don't jump."

"What do you care? You're just a cop," she sneers, eyes narrowing. She understood it was unfair to be so harsh to an officer who was just trying to save her, but she was tired of it. She was tired of people claiming they’d help her when they left her all alone to pick up the pieces of her broken-ass life. She was tired of people telling her things would change and get better when things only seemed to get worse. She was tired of being lied to. "You're just here to do your job, you don't  _actually_ care if I kill myself."

"Think about everyone who would miss you," Connor speaks up, slowly walking closer to stand beside his partner. The red-haired girl shook her head, reaching her hands up to cover her ears. She shut her eyes as a few tears spilled past her closed lids, sliding down her cheeks. 

"Nobody would miss me! Nobody likes me, or cares about me. Not even my own parents!" she yells, voice quivering with lots of emotions all at once; fear, anger, sadness, hate. "I'm doing nothing with my life! I don't have a job, I don't have friends, I don't have a place to live, or money, or food to eat. I'm going to die, anyways, so who cares if I just end it a little sooner?"

"Life won't stay like this forever," Connor says, taking one step forward toward the red-haired girl. She felt tears welling in her eyes but she willed them away, shuffling her feet to stand as close to the edge without falling. "We can help you."

“Can you, though? Can you  _really_ help me?" she smiles, and winks, putting her foot out behind her, balancing on one foot. She puts her arms out to balance herself, and everyone below became more frantic. “I'm past that point. You can't save me.”

With that last word, she leans back, and Connor is dashing to the edge and grabbing her hand before (Y/N) could even process what was happening. He pulled the girl forward instead of backward, throwing her to the concrete of the roof. Somewhere along the way, Connor had lost his balance and tumbled over the edge, falling fifteen floors to the concrete.

The red-haired girl whipped her entire body around to face where she used to be, where Connor had fallen, where the other female officer was standing and watching. She stared over the edge at Connor, watching as his body collided with the hard pavement of the ground, and the sounds of screams resonated even at the top of the building.

"Of course," she whispers, closing her eyes as her grip on the ledge tightened.  _If I go back, the woman dies, and Connor lives. If I stay this way, this girl will live and Connor will have died. What's more important? Connor's life, or hers? Why does it have to be a choice? Why can't both of them get to live? Why does it always have to be one or the other?_

"I-I didn't- I didn't think he would-" the red-haired girl stutters, staring at the ledge her partner fell from, "I didn't think he would throw himself off- off the building for me."

"He would do anything to save someone," she sighs, staring at the officers crowding around Connor's body, bloodied and broken, sprawled across the pavement. She watched as Hank pushed through the crowd of officers to crouch next to Connor, pulling his limp, fragile body into his arms like a father would to a dead son. The sight was like a thousand needles piercing her heart all at once. "He always put everyone before himself. It's just who he was."

"I'm so sorry," the girl cried, putting her face in her hands. She turned away from the scene below her to look back at the suicidal girl, walking over and kneeling beside her. The girl shook her head and wiped furiously at her eyes, trying not to look into the eyes of the saddened detective. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's what he wanted to do, what he thought was best. He's at peace now," she mutters to the girl, hesitantly stroking her red hair in a somewhat calming gesture.  _He's at peace now. Wouldn't it be wrong to bring him back?_ "He died doing what he loved; saving people who needed to be saved. It's how he would have wanted to go."

"He shouldn't have had to die for me," the red-haired girl whispered through tears, reaching out to hug the broken officer. She was taken aback by it, but she let the girl hug her anyway, and wrapped her arms around her slowly. "If-if I would have known he..."

"It's okay," she says softly and shushes her, beginning to rock her back and forth gently, like how Connor did to her sometimes, how she held Connor's body a few times.  _Can we save them both? Isn't it worth a try?_ She looked back at the ledge, thinking about Hank, about Connor, about the girl.  _But what if I fail? What if the girl dies, and Connor lives? I don't think I could live with myself. I can barely live with myself for Gavin shooting that teenager, let alone letting a girl kill herself just so Connor gets to breathe another day._

_But I told him he wasn't going to die._

She took a deep breath while staring at the ledge and holding the girl in her arms, rocking her back and forth constantly as she closes her eyes, forcing herself to go back to a few minutes ago, before Connor fell.  _What do I have to lose? If I fail, I can just try again, right?_

_Right?_

_3... 2... 1..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S ONLY GETTIN WORSE FROM HERE. BUCKLE UP, HONEY.
> 
> (your comments are so sweet wtf thank you guys you make me wanna cry more than writing this does lmao)


	11. Save Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have lost a hero, I have lost a friend, but for you, darling, I would do it all again."
> 
> How many times is she going to go back?  
> The world may never know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fsssf i can't fucking write summaries for shit jfc
> 
> buckle up, honeys, because there's a suicide in this chapter (:  
> i'm not okay  
> *sighs*  
> also sorry this chapter got away from me so there's not much involving Connor  
> but i mean come on like,, ????

"You're just here to do your job, you don't  _actually_ care if I kill myself."

Her eyes shot open to the scene in front of her; the girl, standing on the ledge, Connor standing a few feet behind her. That sharp pain in her temple throbbed against her skull, but she refrained from touching the spot. The pain didn't subside, but she powered through regardless. "Please, you can't. You have to understand, there's people who care, there's reasons to live, things  _do_ change, it just takes time."

"I'm tired of waiting for changes when all that ever happens is wrong! All life has done is chew me up, spit me out, and leave me there to die," she shook her head, tears building up in her eyes. Her voice was shaky, distressed, and she just wanted those damned cops to go away so she could just finish what she started. "I don't want to live like this anymore!"

"I know it's hard to keep living a life that keeps taking everything away from you. Living a life where everything always goes wrong," the pain in her temple was a dull thud now, but it was still vaguely there. Would the headaches get worse the more she used the power? The red-haired girl's expression softened a little, but remained pained and upset. "I know what it's like to want to just end it all here and now, to stop breathing and finally have that peace we all long for. But I know that it's not the answer! It's a permanent solution to something that's only temporary."

"This problem isn't temporary! I don't even have anywhere to go! I don't have a house, a job, a car, anything! Nobody will give me a chance," She mutters that last part, voice faltering as she shuffled backwards just slightly. "I've tried so hard to fix my shitty life. I applied everywhere, begged my parents to give me a place to stay, begged my  _friends_ for a place to crash for the night. Everyone just  _abandoned_ me! I'm broke and alone. What purpose to I have wasting space and precious resources? What's one life in the grand scheme of things?"

"I'm sure we can figure something out," she takes a step toward the red-haired girl, one hand in front of her, reaching out. The girl flinches slightly, glancing behind her at the red and blue lights fifteen stories down. "What's your name?"

"Nicole," her voice quivers, and her shoulders drop. She can't help the tears that escape her eyes, cascading down her cheeks like waterfalls. "My name is Nicole. But does that really even matter? I've been on the streets for at least a year. Why didn't anyone care back then? Why does everyone only suddenly start caring when I'm on the edge of a building?"

"Maybe people did care, but didn't know how to show it until it's too late," Connor speaks up, taking a few steps forward to stand beside his partner. Nicole's eyes shot from her to Connor, and she clenched her fists and tightened her jaw, shaking her head violently. 

"No! All the people who saw me and walked by gave me disgusted looks, told me to stop begging for change and to get up and get a job. Like I haven't applied to fucking everywhere, more than once," Nicole shouts, red hair blowing just slightly in the breeze. "I'm tired of you people lying to me."

"This society is full of heartless monsters with no empathy. You can't let them dictate how you feel or what your worth in this world is," She takes another step closer to Nicole, slow, careful. "Because there's still good people in the world, good people who genuinely care, good people who really know everyone's separate worth in this life. I know that one day you'll find the happiness and love you deserve, Nicole. But everything takes time."

"No," Nicole laughs, shaking her head as tears continued to spill over her cheeks. "No, I don't think that'll happen."

She leans back and lets herself fall, and (Y/N) dashes to the edge, reaching a hand out to grab her, but she was too far, and she was falling. "Nicole!"

People were screaming below, and she turned away, tears welling in her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She shook her head as she sank to the floor, lifting her hands up to her head. Connor walked up and kneeled beside her, setting a hand gently on her shoulder. "We tried, (Y/N). We can't save them all."

_There has to be a way._

"Connor, I-I can't-"  _I can't live like this. I can't do this. I have to go back._ She closes her eyes, feeling his arms circle around her in a comforting embrace. She leaned her head forward to rest on his chest, and he moved a hand to run through her hair.  _I have to save them both._

_3... 2... 1..._

When she opened her eyes, she fell against the metal door, startling Connor. Her head was  _pounding,_ like a million knives stabbing her in the brain over and over again. She took a deep breath, willing the pain away, and before Connor could ask just  _what the fuck happened,_ she pushed the heavy door open, stepping out onto the roof. "Nicole?"

The girl spun around, almost losing her balance, but caught herself before she could tumble over the edge. Connor looked at her too, confused as to how she knew her name. Did (Y/N) know her? "How do you know my name?"

"That isn't important. Nicole, please, you need to understand, killing yourself isn't the answer to your problems. I know the world is cruel and unforgiving, and everything always goes horribly wrong. Nothing ever works in your favor, in anyone's favor. Everyone steps all over you and you're tired of it all, I understand. I know how you feel, life hasn't been too kind to me lately, either. But it's so important to know that there are people out there  _just_ like you, who feel that they have nothing to live for. You aren't as alone as you think you are," she takes a few steps closer, reaching out a hand. "Please, come down, we can talk about this."

"It's too late for that!" Nicole shouts, voice shaky and unnerved. She takes another step toward Nicole, eyes never leaving hers. "It's too late for me now. I'm too far gone to be saved."

"It's never too late, Nicole. You're young! You have an entire life ahead of you! There're things in life you haven't even experienced yet, people you haven't met yet. There's so much more to life than the pain and misery we all dwell on. There's so much more to life than this," she walks closer, keeping her hand out for Nicole. "You just have to keep living one day at a time. I promise you, one day everything will be different, and you'll look back on today, and be glad that you didn't jump. Please, come down."

"I think about dying a lot," Nicole calls out, staying in place. "It seems like my only option at this point. I can't function in this fucked-up society. I was born wrong, flawed, unstable. I might not be as unstable as some of the mother fuckers I've met, but I'm unstable enough! Unstable enough to make life unbearable, unstable enough to want to end it all, unstable enough to feel less than human. I used to cut myself to watch myself bleed, to remind me that I'm still human. But even then, sometimes I wouldn't bleed. Sometimes all it would leave is broken skin and scratches. It made me feel inhuman. Is there even any room in a world like this for someone like me?"

"The world is a big place, Nicole. There will always be room on this planet for you. It doesn't have to end like this," she's just a few feet away now, if Nicole reached out to grab her hand, they could touch. "Please, don't do this."

_Please God, don't do this._

"I-I don't want to keep living like this. I-I want to live i-in a house, a-and have a dog," Nicole stutters through tears, lifting her right hand just a little, as if she might grab her hand. But she was hesitant, leaving her hand just slightly lifted. She shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment before reopening them to make eye contact with her. "Does somebody like me deserve to h-have a life like that?"

"Yes, Nicole, you do deserve that. You deserve all the love and happiness you'll receive one day. You deserve to have that house, and that dog," she offers a smile, keeping her hand held out to the red-haired girl, and Nicole reaches out just a little more, lips quivering with sadness. "You deserve to be happy."

"Do you really mean that?" her voice is almost a whisper, and for a second her eyes dart to Connor, who'd been staring at the other officer in wonder and awe. He'd never seen her so good at negotiating before, it was like she was someone else, or maybe he just didn't really know her at all before?

"Yes, I really mean that, I do," her voice is heavy with truth, because honestly, she did. She really did want her to come down, really did think she deserved to be happy, she really  _didn't_ want her to die. Nicole reached her hand out hesitantly to her, taking her hand finally. She let her help her down to the solid roof top, nearly collapsing in sobs when her feet touch the ground. 

Connor's shoulders relaxed as she set a hand on Nicole's shoulder comfortingly, cheers from the relieved officers down below being faintly heard from fifteen floors up. Nicole hugged her suddenly, and she slowly returned the embrace, glancing at Connor for a moment before letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.  _I did it._

* * *

Connor waited until they were alone before he would ask her his question. He just couldn't wrap his head around what happened today. It was like she'd seen every single possibility before she acted, and chose the best approach. It was like she'd done this before. And what was that when she fell against the door? It was like she passed out again for a split second, the same way she passed out back at the station the other night. And she brushed it off like she  _meant_ to do that. Like she wasn't bothered by it. 

He had so many questions.

He finally had his chance when she suggested driving him home. He was confused by her offer but accepted anyway, finding it the perfect time to ask the questions that had been plaguing his brain. He only hoped she'd give him  _real_ answers this time. "(Y/N), can I ask you a question? Well, actually it's a few questions."

"Connor, you always ask me questions," she laughs breathlessly in the driver's seat, glancing at his perplexed face for a moment before the light turned green. "Yes, go ahead."

"What happened today, on the roof?" he asks, turning his head to look at her. She kept a poker face, staring straight at the road with her hands on the wheel as she focused.

"What do you mean? You saw what happened, you were there," she retorts, making a small gesture with her right hand before returning it to grip the wheel. He sighed, slumping in his seat.  _Yeah, she's going to be difficult again._

"No, I know what I saw, but I mean, it's like you knew exactly what to do before anyone else did. You knew what to say before you even opened the door," Connor pauses, running a hand through his soft brown hair. "Speaking of that door, why did you suddenly collapse against it? And then you just got back up like nothing happened? What's going on?"

"I tripped," she lied, shrugging. He narrowed his eyes at the blatant lie, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn't buying that. 

"Bullshit. You were standing fine and then you just suddenly collapsed against the door. You can't play that off as  _tripping._ I'm not stupid," Connor scolds, shaking his head. "Really, tell me. Why all of a sudden are you so fast? How do you know what will happen before it even happens? And don't you  _dare_ tell me it's just because of a "gut feeling", because I don't want to hear it. You and I  _both_ know there's something more to what's going on."

"Connor, remember how a few days ago you kept asking me questions I couldn't answer, because I can't tell you?" It was more of a rhetorical question, because she knew that he remembered. He had one of the best memories on the force, so there was no way he'd forget a conversation like  _that._ "You said you wouldn't pester me about it anymore."

" _Please,_ (Y/N). Everything is so fucking confusing now, I  _need_ to know what's been happening to you! You-you convinced me to ride in your car to go back to your house the other day, you offered to take me home today, you save my life almost  _every day_ at this point, and-and today I saw a side of you I've never seen before. It's like you were a completely different person."

It hurt her heart. Every word was an ice pick chipping away at her heart painfully, and she desperately wanted to get the weight off her chest and  _tell him,_ but she knew she couldn't. She couldn't tell him he was doomed to die every day, that she loved him so much she couldn't let him go, and kept going back every time to save his life, but that every time she did her head hurt more, for longer, and that she had all the memories of every time he died in her arms. She couldn't tell him any of that.

She stayed silent, keeping her eyes glued to the road ahead as she drove to Connor's apartment. He searched her face for any sign of emotion, anything that might give away some kind of answer, give him anything to work with. "Say something."

She refused, keeping her lips pursed in a tight line. Her hands clenched slightly around the wheel, but she kept her gaze firmly on the road. His face fell, and he shook his head, moving his hands to his knees. He didn't stop looking at her, watching her. "Please,  _say something._ "

She stopped at a red light, and let her gaze drift downward to her dashboard, staring at the numbers and the fuel gauge. His eyes narrowed and his eyebrows dipped downward, and he gripped his knees until his nails were scratching the fabric of his pants. "Say something!"

She jumps at his harsh tone, and she turns to look at him, eyes wide, lips parted just slightly in shock. He  _yelled_ at her. Connor  _rarely_ yelled at her. She stayed like that for a moment, staring at his cold, unfriendly expression. He was  _angry._ Before she could respond, a car honked loud behind her, startling her back to the road, where she found she'd been sitting at a green light. She quickly sped past, refocusing on the road.

He let out a frustrated groan and lifted a hand to run through his hair. He closed his eyes and turned away, slumping back in the seat, defeated. He just wanted  _answers._ Was that so hard? What was so difficult about telling him her problems? What could  _possibly_ be so damn horrible that she couldn't even tell  _him,_ of all people! "Whatever."

Her heart dropped into her stomach, and she fought the urge to start crying. She fought so hard, she thought that maybe Connor didn't even notice. The car returned to silence, an uncomfortable silence, and she kept herself from sniffling or clearing her throat to give it away. It was incredibly hard, but she managed to keep herself composed long enough to get a few blocks away from Connor's apartment after dropping him off before she burst into uncontrollable tears. She wiped at them furiously with her right hand as her left controlled the steering wheel, getting rid of the tears for long enough to at least make it home before she could cry all she wanted to.

The silence was even more unbearable now that she was alone in the car. Nobody else's breathing to hear besides her own, no rustle of fabric from a passenger shuffling in their seat, just her, only her. 

It made her want to cry more. She was doing so much, it was almost not worth it. Not when she couldn't even bring herself to be honest with the one she loved. Not when she made him confused and upset. He had so little time left, he didn't deserve to live that time being confused and miserable. But wouldn't it only be worse if she told him he was supposed to die? No matter what choice she made, it's the wrong one. And she  _hated_ that.

She knew she was making all the wrong decisions. All for such selfish reasons. She knew she was being selfish, and she hated herself for that. She hated herself for being so selfish, for such a petty reason, but she couldn't bring herself to stop, to let go. She loved Connor too much to let him go, she just couldn't do it. She would give her life if it meant he'd get to live.

After a long ten minutes of driving in silence, she finally pulled into the driveway of her house with a screech, the way she always did. She sat in the car for longer than necessary, staring at the wheel beneath her fingertips. She shook her head, shutting her eyes tight and gripping the wheel with an iron-like grip, before wrenching her hands away and violently hitting the steering wheel, screaming profanities as she does this. 

"What fucking kind of bullshit is this!? Why me, huh!? Why'd ya choose me!? What's so fuckin' great about me!?"

But there was no answer, only silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am... not okay
> 
> (can you guess the part in the story where I got stoned?)  
> (hint: its the part where they start talking about dogs)


	12. The Beauty In Dying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why can't Connor just listen for once?  
> Seriously?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really fuckin' depressed right now, so this is gonna be sad as fuck...  
> if you cry easy, you might want some tissues and a pillow or something because... yikes my dude...

"I'm thinking Connor should hang back here for this one," Hank says as he pulls up to the abandoned apartment complex. Connor turns slightly in his seat to give a skeptical look to the Lieutenant. She only nodded, adjusting her attire to fit better. "I mean, given your track record for the past week, you're a liability. So, you stay here, and (Y/N) and I will go in and find our suspect."

"You don't  _actually_  expect me to stay back here and let you guys go in alone?" Connor asks, eyebrow raised curiously. She stays quiet, sitting patiently in the back seat, waiting for Hank to give the go ahead to storm the building. She didn't want to say anything. She tried to go back to normal this morning after Connor yelled at her, but it was hard, and all she could really do was sit quiet. "You could get hurt."

"And so could you, so you're gonna stay here, and let me and (Y/N) handle it," Hank responds firmly, turning to look at Connor. Connor narrowed his eyes slightly at the lieutenant, furrowing his brows. "Understand?"

"No! I'm not going to just  _sit here_ and wait for you two to take care of it!" Connor argues, jabbing a finger into Hank's chest. She jumps slightly at his harsh tone, just like the other night.  _Guess everybody's on edge now._  "You  _need_ my help-"

"We don't need your help, Connor! What we  _need-_ " Hank punctuates the word with a slap to Connor's hand, forcing it away from his chest, "is for  _you_ to stay back  _here,_  in the car, safely on the street."

"Is that what you really think, (Y/N)?" Connor's voice snapped her out of the trance she'd found herself in, and she looked directly at Connor, seeing both of their eyes on her expectantly. "Does Lieutenant Anderson speak for the both of you?"

"Wha-well I-I uh-" she has a hard time finding her words, eyes darting between Connor and Hank. Why the fuck was everybody so goddamn hostile today? She knew tensions were high last night but it's like it's only gotten  _worse._  "I-I just-I don't want you to get hurt, Connor."

Her voice was small and pathetic, and Hank barely caught what she said. Her voice made him kind of sad, and he felt a little bad for fighting with Connor. Connor, however, didn't seem bothered with the way her voice sounded in that moment, how upset she sounded. Instead, he rolled his eyes in response, turning away to sit straight up in the seat with a huff. "Of course."

That made her angry. Why couldn't he understand that they were just looking out for him? Why couldn't he realize they were only doing this because they wanted him to be safe? She wanted to say something, to tell him he didn't have to be such an asshole, but again, she couldn't find the words to say what she wanted to say, so she stayed quiet. 

"I'm not sitting here and waiting for you. I'm  _perfectly capable_ of handling myself in there," Connor fires back, and it's her turn to roll her eyes. She doesn't respond, instead, simply setting her hand on the door handle and pulling to open the car door. Hank shouts her name but she disregards it, shutting the door after climbing out. She starts to walk up the path to the gate closing off the abandoned complex.

Hank curses under his breath as he gets out of the car, jogging up to her to catch up. Connor is close behind, taking quick strides until he's just a little behind them. "What the fuck, (Y/N)?"

"We're wasting time. Let's just get this over with," she huffs angrily, refusing to look at either of her partners.  _You know he won't listen to us anyways._  Hank frowns, but stays silent, walking just a little faster than her to get just a few steps in front of her. As they approach the gate, he stops, putting out a hand to stop the two. They stop, and Hank turns away to inspect the gate's lock.

"It's busted," he states, pushing open the gate just enough to squeeze through. He waves for them to follow, and they do. She was first, slipping by with ease, quickly catching up to the lieutenant. Connor was last, struggling a little more than she did, but he managed to get by decently. Once Connor caught up, Hank stopped again, just short of the main doors. "Okay, there's two floors. I'll cover the bottom floor; you guys cover the top floor."

"I can cover the top floor by myself, Lieutenant, maybe you and (Y/N) should cover the bottom floor," Connor says, crossing his arms. His words felt passive aggressive to her, and it hurt a little more than it should have.

"Nope, I'm not buying that. I can cover the bottom alone, I'm a  _lieutenant._ I can handle myself down here," Hank insists, shaking his head at the detective. "You and (Y/N) will cover the top floor, got it?"

"Whatever, Hank, we need to catch the suspect!" She says hurriedly, shoving past the lieutenant toward the entrance. He quickly rushes up to her, stepping in front of her protectively before she can open the door.

"Slow down, kid! Damn! Stay behind me," Hank grumbles, putting a hand out to push her just slightly behind him. Connor joined the two, stepping behind her as Hank pushed the door open with a loud creak. He whispered a few curses under his breath before stepping inside, looking around the desolate building. There was graffiti all over the walls, gang signs painted in an array of different colors all over the place, some covering others tauntingly, ruining the once beautiful walls.

He stepped past the main lobby toward a long hallway, and he motioned to his partners to find the stairs to the second floor to search up there. Connor nodded, turning to the side to search the area for a stairwell of some kind. 

It wasn't long before they found the stairwell they were looking for, and Connor pushed the heavy metal door open with a loud screech. The steps were a dark, murky gray, littered with petrified gum stuck to the concrete like an old high school sidewalk. The metal railings were chipped red, revealing the cold metal underneath, loosely fastened into the concrete walls.

There was graffiti here, too. Lined all the way up the walls in dull colors, once bright but faded overtime. Obscene words and drawings were dotted about all over the walls, with stupid faces and numbers that made no sense. There were no windows, so Connor couldn’t quite make out _everything_ there was to see on the walls unless he stopped, and he wouldn’t stop.

He took steps two at a time in large strides, leaving her to have to jog up one step at a time, hands firmly wrapped around the handle of her gun. At this pace, they were to the second floor in no time at all, stepping onto the last bit of concrete in front of another set of large metal doors. He stopped in front of them and waited for her to join him by his side, slowly lowering his gun as he pressed himself to the wall beside the door.

She finally stepped up onto the top, quietly rushing to his side. He put an arm out and pushed her gently behind him, waving for her to wait for his mark. She tried to swallow the knot in her throat, but found it difficult to do so. He took a deep breath through his nose before finally pushing the giant metal door open with a deafening screech, cringing at the sound. The suspect probably knew they were here.

She followed Connor out quickly, stepping onto an off-white carpet, stained and dirtied with dust and litter and who knows what. All the doors to each separate apartment were painted white, but were chipping. Some didn’t have numbers anymore, pried off the wood forcefully by teens vandalizing the abandoned property.

Both she and Connor stayed as silent as possible, looking around the area as they slowly went to each door, Connor searching the ones to the left, while she searched the ones to the right. She had a bad feeling letting Connor search rooms alone, but she couldn't bring herself to argue, especially when their suspect could probably hear them.

Connor slowly pushed opened one of the white doors, stepping inside carefully with his gun drawn. His eyes scan over the abandoned living room of a one-bedroom apartment inside the complex. There was a dining table to the left of him with a few dark wooden chairs knocked over. He takes a few steps forward into the apartment, before the door slams shut and a tall, heavy man is on him, struggling to grab the gun in Connor's hands.

She was all the way down the hall when the commotion started. As soon as she heard that door slam, she was out of the apartment she was searching and dashing down the hall toward the noise.

Connor fought hard against the man, kicking his leg out from underneath him to knock him off balance. Connor lurches forward, spinning around to face the suspect, pointing the gun at his face. "Freeze!"

The man threw himself forward, grabbing Connor's wrists, yanking him around to violently throw him to the ground. He heard the footsteps of the other officer running down the hall, and he grabbed the upturned chair beside the abandoned dining table, shoving it beneath the doorknob to keep her from entering. 

While the man was distracted by keeping her out, Connor reached out to grab his ankle, yanking him off-balance, sending him crashing to the floor. He turned onto his back, kicking the leg Connor held on to, shoe connecting painfully with Connor's face. Connor groaned in pain and unintentionally let go of the man, reaching up to his aching nose. 

The man scrambled to his feet, running for the gun that fell from his hands when Connor knocked him over. The other officer was pounding hard on the door, trying to force it open to assist her partner. Connor was on his feet in little time, tackling the man to the ground, sending a swift punch to his nose.  _For kicking me in the face._

The man struggled beneath him, managing to turn the tides when he knocked Connor over, and switched places. He pinned Connor's wrists down with his knees, and his hand shot to his front pocket, quickly pulling out an illegal switchblade, flicking the blade out. In one quick motion, the blade stabbed all the way through Connor's right hand. 

Connor cried out in pain as the man wrenched the knife from the wound, and he struggled desperately to regain the upper hand. He managed to dislodge his wounded hand from underneath his knee, and despite the intense pain shooting all up his arm in protest, he hit the side of the man's head hard, knocking him over again. Connor ran to the door and practically threw the chair out of the way, yanking the door open to see her tear stained face. "(Y/N) I-"

A gunshot rang out, and stopped Connor from talking. He coughed once, a small droplet of blood forming on the corner of his lips as blood slowly bubbled up his throat. He glanced down at the spot of blood pooling on the front of his shirt, and he looked up before collapsing in her arms.

She stood frozen in place, staring forward with tears brimming in her eyes as she held him in her arms. His breaths were short and hot against her neck as he bled onto her clothes, feeling more and more drained. “I’m… sorry.”

“It’s okay, Connor,” she whispered, feeling the stray tear slide down her cheek as she stared at the man, still pointing a gun at them, shaking. She smiled, raising one hand from Connor’s back to point the gun directly at the man, firing a shot right into his chest. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I-I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have been so harsh,” he breathes, wrapping his arms slowly around her with what little strength he had left. She leaned to press her face into his hair, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. “Y-you just wanted to protect m-me.”

“It’s okay, honey, it’s okay,” she coos, tears spilling past her closed eyelids in streams. He smiled, closing his fingers around the fabric of her blazer. She nearly sobs, tightening her grip on his weak form. “I love you. I love you so much, I’ll always love you.”

“I-I love you too, (Y/N),” he coughs, knees buckling from underneath him. She slowly lowers him to the floor as he heaves, clenching his eyes tight at the pain shooting all through his body. She leans back just slightly to press a long kiss to his forehead as her hand reaches up to softly caress his cheek. “I love you, too.”

They stare into each other’s eyes as the life leaves his, staring into her stunning, loving eyes as he took his last breath, letting his eyelids flutter closed as he let the warm darkness take him away.

When his body goes limp, she continues to rub circles into his cheek, holding him close to her in her arms. She stares at his closed eyelids, slightly-parted lips, the blood dribbling down his chin from his mouth, the way that unruly tuft of hair falls onto his pale face. It would have been almost beautiful had he been alive.

She didn’t hear when Hank ran up, or when he was shouting her name, shaking her to snap her out of the trance she’d entered. She just stared, stared with empty eyes at the man she loved most. Hank desperately tried to pull her away, but she remained locked in place, connected with her lover. “(Y/N)! Come on! I know you loved him but you need to _let go!_ ”

He finally managed to pull her away from Connor’s body, and she laughed bitterly, throwing her head back. Hank gave her a worried look, trying to pull her to her feet but she simply shrugged him off, chest shaking with hysteric laughter. He moved closer to her but she pushed him away, tears streaming down her cheeks as she laughed. His eyes widened in concern, and he reached a slow hand out to her. “(Y/N), you need to calm down-”

She ignored Hank, crawling away from him toward Connor. She gets close to him and lays down beside him, wrapping an arm around him as she buried her face in his side, crying into his corpse. She closes her eyes, smiling to herself sadly as she takes a deep breath, the last thing she heard was Hank calling out her name frantically, before everything went black.

_3… 2… 1…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WRITING THAT PART GAVE ME SHIVERS. IT LITERALLY SENT FUCKING SHIVERS DOWN MY SPINE.  
> don't think this shit doesnt effect me either lmao  
> I honestly have no idea where this is going.  
> Like, I know how this story is gonna end, I just gotta steer this sadness train in that direction lmao  
> Every chapter is a clusterfuck of events that werent even planned at all.  
> Seriously, like, I come up with this shit the DAY I write it. Completely UNPROFESSIONAL.  
> (I really am a pretty terrible person though, aren't I?)


	13. Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *inhales sharply* yiiiiiiikesss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't fucking write for shit today. Like, my focus is so off, and I fucking keep repeating myself. And my imagery is fucking LACKING today.  
> And now I'm starting to get fucking angry and annoyed with it and that's not good.  
> I'm literally crying angry tears about this.
> 
> I FUCKING CANT WRITE GODDAMN SUMMARIES UUUUUUUUUUUGH  
> this isn't as long, probably just as long as chapter 12. they're getting shorter and shorter uufh  
> (I'm hurting.)

Connor waited patiently at the top of the stairs for her, standing beside the wall next to the door. She collapsed on the landing, arm desperately reaching out to grab the rail to catch herself. Her fingers just barely grazed the metal bar, slipping just past it. She fell to the ground with a thud, rapidly blinking her eyes as pain shot through her head like a bullet. She quietly groaned as she heard Connor’s fast steps down the stairs to the landing she’d fallen on.

“Oh my God, (Y/N), are you okay?” he whispers as he kneels beside her, placing a soft hand on her shoulder as she pushes herself up, despite the pounding pain in her temple telling her to stop. She nods, sitting on her knees for a moment to collect herself before she tried to stand. She takes a long look at Connor’s concerned face, analyzing the way his eyebrows furrowed in worry, his lips downcast in a slight frown, eyes still sparkling brown and full of life.

“I’m fine,” she responds hastily, voice as quiet as she could make it. They were still trying to catch their suspect, after all. She lifts herself to her feet with Connor’s unrequested help, steadying herself against him as she attempted to regain her balance. He was hesitant to let go, but he does, climbing up the stairs again, much slower this time.

The throb of pain in her head that always followed her decent into the past lingered for much longer this time, almost growing worse at an exponential rate. _These headaches make saving Connor almost not worth it. Almost._

It wasn’t long before she joined him by his side, and he put an arm out, gently pushing her behind him and gesturing to wait for his signal. She grabbed the hand that pushed her back, squeezing it as she looked up at him. He turns his head to look over his shoulder at her with a confused expression, and she flashed him a nervous smile. He offers an awkward side-smile, expression giving away the anxiety he tried so hard to hide.

Connor turned back away, taking a deep breath through his nose before finally pushing the metal door open with a loud squeak, and Connor visibly cringed at the sound. She followed him quickly as he held the door open for her, and when they were officially on the second floor, he let the door shut behind them with a thud. Connor walked forward, gun drawn, starting to head immediately down the hall. She quickly stops him when she grabs his wrist, looking up at him with a silent plea.

He turns back to look at her with an exasperated expression, huffing a quiet sigh. He shakes his head and retracts his wrist from her grip, but she moves forward, grabbing his shirt to keep stopping him. He rolls his eyes, whispering, “What, now?”

“I don’t want you to check the rooms alone,” she whispers back, lip quivering at the memory of Connor dying. The most _recent_ time Connor died, that is. He wants to let out an annoyed groan, but keeps silent to not alert the suspect hiding in an apartment. He shakes his head “no” in response, reaching a hand to grab the one she had on his shirt.

“It’s faster if we check alone,” he whispers back, thinking about it in the sense of time and logic. She bites her lip, glancing at the door the suspect had been hiding behind, the second door on the left. She quickly looked back at Connor, shaking her head at him. He raised an eyebrow, lifting her hand off his shirt and letting her drop it to her side.

“Then let me check the left,” she whispers, crossing her arms defiantly. She narrowed her eyes, determined to find any possible solution to saving him. The easiest way to keep him alive was to keep him as far away from that door as possible. If he was forced to search the right side, then she would have to face the suspect by herself, but that was a risk she was willing to take.

“Whatever, let’s just go,” he rolls his eyes and turns away, walking away quietly to the first room on the right. She let out a relieved sigh, slowly walking forward until she reached the first door, and she opened it, knowing no one was behind it. She had to check just to make sure she didn’t look suspicious or give Connor any further reason to question her once all was said and done.

She sifted through abandoned pages and notebooks sitting on a desk near the door, a pathetic attempt at trying to seem busy. She already knew what door the suspect was hiding behind, she already knew what was about to happen, she was _anticipating_ it. Yet, she still found herself lingering in the abandoned apartment, trying to steady her rapidly accelerating heartbeat.

She waited until she heard that Connor was down the hall before she left the apartment she’d been idly searching. She slowly approached the next door on the left, hesitantly setting her trembling hand on the cold metal knob. She took a deep breath, willing the twisting knots in her stomach away. _It’s better if it’s me and not him._

She turns the knob and pushes the door open with a loud creak, not stepping inside until both of her hands were wrapped tightly around the handle of her gun, elbows locked with her weapon held straight out in front of her. She glanced to her left to see the dining table and upturned chairs, taking a few steps inside before the door was suddenly slammed behind her, and a man lurched forward, grabbing her hands.

The suspect struggled to dislodge the gun from her grip, pointing the barrel up as he shoved her into the side of the dining table. She pulled the trigger, firing a shot upwards into the ceiling. The sound left both of their ears ringing, but the man persisted, barely managing to grab the gun out of her hands. He threw it behind him and quickly wrapped his fingers around her throat, squeezing tightly. She clenched her jaw tightly as she struggled against the man, who was pushing her down against the table.

She scratched at his wrists, thrashing about underneath him, but he only tightened his grip, undoubtedly hard enough to leave ugly purple bruises where his fingers were latched onto her skin. She pushed up against him in a feeble attempt to shove him off her, but the lack of oxygen was making everything harder to do.

Her hands shot from his wrists to grab his neck, choking back. _Bitch won’t take me down that easily._ She dug her nails hard into the skin beneath them, and she brought her knee up swiftly to connect painfully to his groin. He let out a harsh growl and unintentionally let go, allowing her ample time to run to the door and swing it open, meeting face to face with Connor. She heaved huge breaths as she threw herself into his body, grabbing the fabric of his shirt on instinct.

The suspect dashed toward her gun, quickly picking it up and pointing it at her and Connor. His left hand wrapped around her waist, and he thrust the gun forward over her shoulder, firing several shots at the suspect with a cold, merciless glare etched into his face. Each shot was nearly deafening, and by the third shot her hearing was muffled, like she was underwater.

She gasped as he emptied the clip into the suspect, killing him. Connor let his head fall just slightly to the right in a small tilt, a disappointed sigh escaping past his lips as he dropped his right hand, letting it come to a resting position at his side. He needed that suspect alive to question him about his accomplice, but he knew that if he hadn’t acted the way he had, she might not have made it, and that thought scared him more than anything.

The loud squeal of the metal doors from the stairwell opening echoed through the hallway, and they heard fast, heavy footsteps approach as the door slammed shut with a loud reverberating sound. Connor didn’t even try to move, just let her catch the breath she needed as he held her against him. Hank was with them in no time, slowing down when he saw them standing in front of the door. “Oh, Jesus Christ, what happened now?”

“(Y/N) found the suspect. He,” Connor pauses, looking over at the body of the suspect, limp and riddled with bullet holes, “didn’t make it.”

“Holy shit,” Hank breathes, lowering his gun upon seeing the bloodied body. The suspect’s face was frozen in pain, and upon counting the number of bullet holes, he found there was fifteen. “Jesus Christ, was it _really_ necessary to empty _your entire clip_ into him?”

“Yes,” Connor says emotionlessly, taking a step back to look at her. She still kept her hands firmly attached to his shirt, staring at the white fabric beneath her shaking fingers. He lifted his right hand to gently graze the red marks along her neck, visibly scowling when she flinches away. It made him angry that the suspect got his hands on her, that he wasn’t there to keep her safe, that he was stupid enough to let her check rooms alone. He told himself he should have listened, that if he did he could have prevented her getting hurt. “He hurt her.”

“Shit, (Y/N), are you okay?” Hank’s voice is suddenly concerned, pushing any and all other thoughts away to focus on his partner. He moved a bit closer to them, and Connor finally let her go so she could face Hank completely.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she insists, bringing a hand to touch the marks herself. She shakes her head and laughs breathlessly, moving the hand from her neck to her face. “I just got choked. It could be worse. It could’ve been Connor.”

_It was Connor._

Connor let out an angry sigh, running a hand through his chocolate brown hair. He turned away from her and pushed past Hank to walk briskly toward the stairwell at the front of the abandoned apartment complex. He pushed the dark heavy doors open and stepped down the stairs fast, glare fixed to the concrete below his feet. He needed to get some air.

She was fast down the hall behind him, muttering a quick apology to the lieutenant as she rushed by, shoving the doors open as he began to descend the second set of steps. She called out to him from the top of the stairs, hand resting on the cold concrete wall beside her as she craned her neck to look down at him. “Connor, wait!”

He spun around to face her from the step just below the landing, expression softening just slightly, but the hard anger never truly faded from his face. He just stood in place, staring up at her expectantly as she quickly climbed down the stairs to meet him face-to-face. He found himself unable to stop staring at the red marks on her neck, already starting to bruise. It only fueled his anger more, and part of him _wished_ he had more ammunition to empty into that fucking bastard who put his hands on her. “I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

“What? Why?” she asks, stopping at the edge of the landing, right in front of him. She swallows hard as he reaches up hesitantly to touch the marks on her neck, but this time she doesn’t flinch away. She lets his fingers graze gently over the bruising skin in the shape of fingers, and she takes a shaky breath, closing her eyes.

“Because, I-” he pauses, closing his eyes as he lets his fingertips linger on her neck. He shakes his head, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I couldn’t stop him from hurting you.”

“It’s okay, Connor. It really wasn’t that bad,” she shrugs, lips twitching in a small, sad smile. He scoffs and takes his hand away, turning to continue down the stairs. Her face falls, and she’s quick after him, reaching out to grab his hand. “Connor!”

“It’s about more than the fact he put his hands on you, (Y/N). I just- what if I wasn’t there?” he turns sharply to face her from in front of the doors to the first floor, keeping his hand in hers. His eyes were narrowed, and his eyes were glossy, like he was holding back tears.

Truth be told, he was.

He was holding back tears. He wanted to cry that he let her get hurt. He wanted to yell loud, and break things, and feel the burning pain in his knuckles after punching a brick wall too hard. He wanted to _hurt,_ because _she_ hurt. “What if somehow, he got the upper hand, and-and did something worse? What if I didn’t make it in time?”

“But you _did,_ Connor. You did. You were there with your gun, and you shot him,” she squeezed his hand comfortingly, taking a step forward to be closer to him. He took a sharp breath through his teeth, unable to stop the few stray tears that managed to force their way down his cheeks. “You did great, honey. You saved me.”

His shoulders slumped as he let go, moving closer to wrap his arms tightly around her waist, burying his face into the crook of her shoulder. The soft brushing of his hair against the sensitive skin almost tickled, and she could feel the silent tears that stained her blazer. She reached one hand up to run through his perfect brown hair, and she couldn’t help her own tears that spilled over her face. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t _best case scenario,_ but it wasn’t _worst case scenario,_ so at least they had _that_ going for them, right?

“He could have killed you,” Connor says bitterly against the fabric. She sighs sadly, twirling a stray strand of his hair around her finger. His fingers dance against her back, tapping almost rhythmically as she plays with his hair, almost melting away in her embrace. “I could have lost you.”

_I DID lose you._

“But you didn’t, Connor. You didn’t lose me, I’m right here,” she coos, turning her head just enough to place a tender kiss to the top of his head. His tapping stops and he tightens his grip just slightly, and she can feel a soft sigh escape his lips. “See?

“I should have listened to you when you said we should have looked together,” he lifts his head and looks away dejectedly, a twinge of shame shooting through his heart like an arrow. “I should have trusted your instincts. I mean, when have you been wrong so far?”

“It’s okay, Connor. I know that I probably sound like a complete nut-job whenever I’m around you,” she lets out a breathless laugh, unintentionally dragging herself down. She smiles at him sadly, moving her hand to cup his cheek. “I know that I haven’t been very easy to be around lately. And, I-uh, I’m sorry about that. For putting you through all this.”

“Putting me through what?” He asks suddenly, turning his head back to face her with a puzzled expression. “If you mean the other night, I’m sorry I was so harsh. I-”

“No, it’s-it’s not about that,” she says quickly, shaking her head and pulling away from him. _I’m sorry for saving your life instead of letting you be at peace, thus making both of our lives worse, because I can’t bring myself to live without you._ “I’m just… sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is like,,, even the point anymore?
> 
> (Honestly I wish I was dead)


	14. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank is tired of her keeping secrets, so he'll have to use his authority in their job to get the answers he needed.  
> He really didn't want to do it to her.
> 
> (but you know I had to do it to em)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate that I'm all self-conscious about posting this now  
> I WAS DOING SO GOOD AND NOW IM BACK TO WHERE I STARTED.  
> i guess anxiety never truly goes away.
> 
> sorry if this isn't what you're looking for, honestly, this wasn't even my intention.  
> i seriously am so lost

“You should go home, (Y/N),” Hank stops at her desk on his way out, placing a hand on top of the paperwork scattered across it. They were the last ones out of the station, having spent all their time filing their report on the incident at the apartments. The amount of paperwork she had to do at this point from their mistakes the past week was incredible, and it was definitely the worst part of going back and repeating the same thing over and over again. She lifts her head from the computer monitor to look up at her older partner with a blank expression. “It’s late.”

“I’m almost done filling out this report, I’ll go as soon as it’s finished,” she waves him off, returning her attention back to the screen. He lets out a disappointed sigh, shaking his head as he reaches over her desk to press the power button. “Wha- hey!”

“Oh, looks like it’s finished. Time to go,” Hank says mockingly, tapping his foot. He wasn’t going to leave until she did, because he knew that if he left without making sure she went home, she might just stay there the entire night without ever having gone home. Something was fucking wrong with her, and he was tired of sitting by silently watching her lose her goddamn mind. He was going to get to the bottom of her strange behavior, one way or another. “Come on.”

“Fowler is going to be pissed I didn’t finish my report,” she grumbles as she grabs her bag from underneath her desk, pushing the chair back so she could stand. He rolls his eyes, continuously tapping his foot impatiently. She slings the strap over her shoulder and walks out from behind her desk.

“You weren’t even writing your report. You were spacing out at your desk,” Hank scolds, pointing an accusing finger at her. Her frown deepens, and part of her wants to shrink away, but she stands her ground, allowing herself to be chewed out by the lieutenant. “You already finished your report and sent it in, didn’t you?”

“Okay, so maybe I just didn’t want to go home. Big deal, who cares?” she furrows her brows, crossing her arms over her chest. Hank lets out an angry sigh through his nose, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“There is something seriously wrong with you that you’re not telling us,” Hank narrows his eyes, crossing his arms as well. She clenches her jaw tight in mild worry, and it takes more restraint than she would have thought to keep her teeth from grinding painfully against each other. “Something else happened the day we caught Eric Johnson, didn’t it? Something that Connor and I didn’t see. Something that _really_ fucked you up. So, spill it.”

“I was just really scared for Connor. It was a close call,” she lies, shrugging and stuffing her hands in her pockets. Hank eyes her quizzically, before he clicks his tongue and waves his pointer finger from side to side, the way a father would when he told his child “no”.

“I don’t believe that for one second, (Y/N). There’s something else going on with you that you refuse to tell me,” Hank raises an eyebrow expectantly at her, and she keeps quiet, fully intending on keeping her secret. Hank wasn’t about to talk her into telling him _that_ easily. “And it’s only going to make everything worse the longer you keep this from us.”

“There’s nothing else going on, Hank,” she lies through gritted teeth, and she grips the fabric of her pockets in tight fingers. Hank still isn’t buying it. He lets out a frustrated groan and grabs her wrist, taking her hand out of her pocket and dragging her forcefully to the exit of the station. “Hey! Let me go, Hank! What the fuck!”

“You’re gonna tell me the goddamn truth, because you’ve been fucking impossible to work with since Johnson was arrested. You and Connor have been running around in circles around each other and it’s been driving me _fucking insane!_ So, you’re gonna tell me what’s really going on with you,” Hank sneers when they’re outside standing directly in front of her on the sidewalk. She swallows the knot forming in her throat, and she bites the inside of her cheek. “No more bullshit.”

“If I tell you, you won’t believe me,” she says suddenly, turning her head away to look at the wet street to the side of her. It was raining shortly before, but it had stopped, for now.

“Try me,” he challenges, letting go of her wrist and crossing his arms again. She fights with herself internally, wondering if the risk was worth it. _Is this worth the headache?_

“You’ll think I’m a complete nut-job,” she counters, crossing her arms in a mirrored reflection of her partner. He raises an eyebrow curiously at her, frown deepening.

“I already think you’re a fucking nut-job,” he responds, rolling his eyes, a hint of sarcasm underlying his words. She almost wants to laugh, but considering the situation, and the war going on in her head over this decision, she can’t. She stays quiet while she thinks, unable to meet the lieutenant’s expectant stare. He didn’t want to have to do this, but he knew this would probably be the only way to get her to tell him the real truth. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll be forced to tell Captain Fowler and have you taken off the case.”

“What!? You wouldn’t,” she gasped, head shooting up to look at the much taller, older man. He gives her a challenging look, and she gulps, knowing he would indeed rat her out if she wouldn’t stop being so _fucking complicated._ “That’s cruel, Hank.”

“We gotta do what we gotta do, Princess. So,” he pauses, jabbing a finger into her chest to push her back just one step, “tell me.”

“ _Fine,_ Hank,” She gives up, slumping her shoulders in defeat. Her gaze lands on the concrete beneath her feet, and her hand goes to her jacket pocket to pull out the pack of cigarettes she’d just recently started smoking. “But I need a fucking cigarette before I tell you.”

“That bad?” he asks as she walks over to lean against the wall. He walks over and joins her, leaning against the wall beside her as she puts the cigarette to her lips and ignites the tip, inhaling a thick cloud of smoke. She simply nods as she breathes out, a puff of white smoke forming in front of her and dissipating just as quickly.

“Yeah, that bad,” she sighs, staring at the gentle red glow of the burning cigarette. She shakes her head, lifting it up to her lips to take another drag. After releasing the second cloud of smoke, she takes a deep breath, searching for the words she wanted to say to start off what he wanted her to admit. “He died in my arms that day, Hank.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, turning his head to look at her in confusion. She lets out a breathless, cynical laugh, flicking some ash to the ground below their feet. She looks up at the cloudy sky, dark in the dead of night.

“Connor died that day. You were at the other end of the room, I was behind Connor, and he opened the door and stepped in, and he was shot before I could even see what happened. Eric ran out and you shot him dead, and I ran to Connor’s side, and I held him,” she has a hard time keeping the tears from spilling past her eyes, but she manages to will them away. She turns her head to look directly at Hank, expression almost broken as she speaks, “I held him in my arms as he died.”

“That isn’t possible, though,” Hank responds, but the look in her eyes told him she wasn’t lying. _That_ was why she refused to tell anyone, why she thought everyone would call her crazy, because the truth just _wasn’t possible._ “He’s still alive.”

“I _know_ that, Hank! I know that he’s alive, but-but I know that he died. After he died, you took me to the bar. We drank our fucking _souls_ away that night, drowning ourselves in whisky to fill the empty feeling of living without Connor,” she lets out a heavy breath, taking a moment to suck in another breath of tobacco. “And a woman came up to me, and asked me if I wanted to go back in time to change something that happened, to right a wrong I made.”

Hank stayed silent, listening intently to her story. It sounded bizarre, untrue, it sounded completely _insane_ , but she looked and sounded so truthful, like she _genuinely_ believed that what she was saying really did happen.

“And I told her that I would go back to save Connor, because I just couldn’t bring myself to live without him,” she lets out a breathless laugh, shaking her head as she flicked the ashes again. “In retrospect, maybe I should have done the right thing and just killed myself instead of making life more difficult for everyone around me.”

“Killing yourself would have made life more difficult for everyone around you anyway,” Hank retorts, almost snorting. So, she had suicidal tendencies too, then. Maybe he was rubbing off on her more than he thought, or maybe she was just more similar to him than he originally would have guessed. “Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do in the end, but you had good intentions.”

“You really believe me?” she scoffs, taking yet another drag off the cigarette. He shrugs, tilting his head up to look at the dark sky hanging above them.

“I’ve heard crazier stories, believe it or not,” Hank lets out a quiet laugh through his nose, shutting his eyes as he leaned his head back against the wall. “You weren’t wrong when you said I’d think you’re a nut-job after telling me this, but sometimes nut-jobs are the ones who hold all the truths, and that’s why nobody will believe them.”

“Because accepting the truth is harder than accepting comforting lies,” she sighs, a little relieved that Hank wasn’t as skeptical as she originally thought. He hums and nods, keeping his eyes shut as the rolling thrum of thunder came, and in a matter of seconds, the pouring rain snuffed out her cigarette. “Well, so much for that, I guess.”

“So, you were offered a chance to save Connor,” Hank asks, turning his head to look at her. She nods, feeling the heavy rain drops against the top of her head, soaking her hair in a matter of minutes. “How exactly does that work?”

“I reimagine myself back to the point in time I want to change, and I can change it,” she admits, flicking the dead cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with her foot. “I couldn’t even make sense of it at first. You took me home that night, and when you left, I gave it a try. I went back to before Connor went in that room, and what you remember from that day, is what I did. I thought it was all just a dream, so at the bar I tried to revel in Connor’s presence, believing that when I woke up he’d be gone, and I’d have to go in to work with a painful hole in my chest.”

“That’s why Connor said it was a rough morning.”

“Yeah, because I was really late. I was so depressed, believing that the love of my life was gone from my life forever, that I couldn’t even complete my morning routine. He called, and I didn’t know what to do. I thought he was dead,” she almost chokes on her words, and this time she can’t help the tears that slipped from her eyes and mixed with the pouring rain. At least Hank wouldn’t be able to tell she was crying. “And when he showed up at my house, I lost it.”

“This all sounds really crazy,” he says in disbelief, looking down at his hands. After hearing all this, he realizes that if this is the truth, he’s technically not her original Hank, and that memories she has with him he will never have with her. And that thought _really_ weirded him out. “I mean, I believe you, it just sounds really fucked up.”

“I know, I made a mistake. I should have just let him be at peace, shouldn’t I?” she cries, lifting her hands up to cover her eyes. Hank gives her a sympathetic look, placing a hand on her shoulder in what he assumed was a comforting gesture.

“I don’t think anyone can blame you for wanting to save the person you loved, (Y/N),” Hank pats her shoulder, the best attempt he could give her at the moment. He finally understood why she was so messed up now, it made sense if she had all that weight holding her down without being able to bring herself to tell anyone what was happening. He started to feel bad for being so mean with her when she was basically just a confused girl gifted with something she didn’t understand.

“But it’s been more than once now, Hank. He’s died like, every fucking day since then. He died during that negotiation, _twice_ , he got shot in the head by that teenager, he died in a car accident, he threw himself off that building to save Nicole, he died _today_ ,” she breathes, spreading her fingers to look at Hank before she slowly pulled them away from her face. “Every time you and Connor just thought I was badass, it’s not true. It’s because I saw what would happen if I didn’t step in. I’ve seen him die so much, Hank. I’ve seen him die and I can’t even tell him.”

“Why not?” Hank asks, raising a brow at her. She laughs bitterly, turning to face Hank completely after pushing herself off the wall. “What?”

“You and I _both_ know that Connor would never believe a fucking word coming out of my mouth, Hank,” she responds harshly, scowl etched deep into her features. He sighs, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he shrugs.

“I don’t know, he might surprise you,” he says, turning away from her to walk away. She stands there, watching him slowly get further and further away until she calls out to him.

“Where are you going?”

“To get drunk. You should go talk to Connor, it might be worth your time,” He calls back, waving her off without looking back at her. She just stood silently in the rain, right in front of the police station. She thought about what Hank said for a long time, how he genuinely believed what she was saying, and how that information disturbed him just as much as it disturbed her.

After a long few minutes of letting the rain drench her clothing, making the fabric stick to her skin as strands of her hair clung to her neck and forehead, she pulled out her phone, going to her messages and clicking on her conversation with Connor.

_October 8, 23:32_

_(Y/N): Connor, we need to talk. Can we meet somewhere? I know it’s late._

_October 8, 23:33_

_Connor: I suppose. Where would you like me to meet you?_

_October 8, 23:35_

_(Y/N): The playground Hank drinks at sometimes._

_October 8, 23:36_

_Connor: This is something serious, isn’t it?_

_October 8, 23:37_

_(Y/N): Yeah, how’d you guess that?_

_October 8, 23:39_

_Connor: It’s almost midnight, and you want me to meet you somewhere where Lieutenant Anderson often drinks his sorrow away. We only go there when something is wrong._

_October 8, 23:40_

_(Y/N): Damn, that’s kind of sad, isn’t it?_

_October 8, 23:42_

_Connor: I guess it is, kind of._

_October 8, 23:43_

_Connor: I’m leaving now, I’ll meet you there._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also,, everybody telling me to take a break,,, thanks,, but uhhh,,, that day I didn't post anything was like, the worst day I've had in weeks... 
> 
> I'm not depressed because of writing this (well I mean i am now, but i wasn't before) i'm depressed because everything in my real life is going to shit. i write this horrible angsty shit because i want to die and i cant, SO I MAY AS WELL KILL CONNOR OVER AND OVER AGAIN TO SATISFY MY LONGING FOR THE INEVITABLE.
> 
> man,,, i'm so sad,,


	15. Right Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How about a flashback to some better times, when everything was still normal?  
> Yes, yes that sounds good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a little short compared to other chapters I have but its okay  
> its a flashback chapter. hope thats alright.

_There’s a soft knock at the door, just loud enough for us to hear. Hank turned his head to face it, but made no attempt to get up from the table we were sitting at to go answer it. I raised a questioning brow, looking at him in curiosity. There was a second knock, just a little louder this time, like whoever was there thought he might not have heard the first one. “Hank, aren’t you going to answer that?”_

_“No, fuck ‘em,” Hank slurs, turning back to the glass of whisky in his hands. When I got his text, I was about to get ready to go to bed, but it felt so urgent that I had to abandon all of that and go over to do whatever he wanted me to do. Turned out he just wanted someone to drink with. He had gotten angry at Connor for blatantly disregarding his own safety to chase down a criminal, even though he could have been seriously hurt, even after Hank told him not to._

_Another knock came again persistently, and Hank let out a frustrated groan, leaning his head against the cool wood table. I stood, taking it upon myself to go and answer the door for him, despite his drunken protests. “It could be something important, Hank.”_

_“It could be something important, Hank,” he mocks in a high-pitched voice, lifting his head just a little to look at me as he flipped me off. I rolled my eyes, turning back to the door and putting my hand on the handle after turning the lock. I pulled the door open and looked up at the face of the man standing in the doorway, seeing his deep brown eyes, and defiant tuft of hair falling on his forehead._

_“Oh, hey Connor.”_

_“Aw see, I told you, you should have just left it alone and made him go away,” Hank yells out from the kitchen, and she rolls her eyes again, smiling awkwardly at her other partner. He smiled back, surprisingly unhurt by Hank’s drunken words._

_“Hello detective. I didn’t think you would be here,” he says with a look of mild astonishment, keeping his hands behind his back with a straight, professional posture. He looks just above me a little to look past the doorway, attempting to see inside Hank’s house._

_“Yeah, I’m Hank’s drinking buddy. Can’t let the poor guy drink all by himself, right?” I laugh, opening the door all the way to let him inside. Hank lifts his head up from the table to glare at Connor and I, putting up his middle finger again._

_“Fuck you. I’m perfectly fine drinking alone, brat,” Hank sneers, turning back to his glass. It was a blatant lie, especially since he was the one who called me first, anyway. I turn away from the door when Connor shuts it, walking back to the table where my own drink was. I didn’t drink as much or as fast as Hank, so I was only just a little tipsy, rather than straight-up drunk like he was._

_“Anyways, what are you here for, Connor?” I ask politely as he walks in to join us in the kitchen. He had a somewhat nervous expression on his face, only glancing at Hank for a few seconds at a time before darting to look somewhere else. This must have had to do with what Hank said earlier, about Connor not listening._

_“Ah, yes, well, I came to check on you, Lieutenant. And to… apologize, for my behavior earlier. I tried to call you and tell you how sorry I was over the phone, but you haven’t answered or returned my calls,” Connor says, in that way that was so obviously Connor. Hank grumbled unintelligibly, waving his hand at him dismissively. “So, I came to make sure you were alright. I see that you are, thanks to Detective (L/N).”_

_“Yeah, whatever,” Hank mutters, pushing the chair he sat in back so he could stand. I quickly moved to stand by his side in case he fell, but he kept himself somewhat balanced, swaying from side to side as he tried to walk to his room. “I’m fucking tired, and going to bed, so you gotta leave now. Thanks for drinking with me, brat.”_

_“Anytime, Hank. Alcoholism is only fun if you have someone to share it with,” I laugh mockingly, watching him stumble his way down the hall. Connor stands behind me, a faint look of concern in his eyes as he disappears out of our sight._

_“Get her home safe, son!” Hank shouts out to Connor before the sound of a door slamming resonated in the quiet home. I scoff and smile, shaking my head as I grabbed my bag from the floor. Connor was already at the door, holding it open for me before I was even out of the kitchen._

_“Damn, Connor, impatient as always, I see,” I smirk as I walk through the doorway, letting him lock the bottom lock before he shuts the door. I started to make my way to my car, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder, shaking his head._

_“You’ve been drinking, detective. You shouldn’t be driving,” Connor says as he turns me to face him, a serious look on his face. I snort, patting him once on the chest playfully before turning back to my car, fumbling with my keys._

_“Connor, I’m not even drunk. I’m fine to drive, really,” I say as I finally pull the key out, smiling to myself at my victory. Connor quickly swipes the keys out of my hand, depositing them into his pocket before I could even reach out to grab them. “Hey! Those are my keys, Connor! I’m not just going to leave my car in Hank’s driveway!”_

_“Then allow me to drive you home,” Connor smiles innocently, like the beautiful bastard he is. I frown, pouting as he stood there, staring at me expectantly, waiting for a response. I huffed out a sigh of defeat, slumping against the door of the car._

_“Fine, you can drive my car. But how are you going to get back from my house, if your car is here?” I ask, raising a questioning brow as he takes the keys from his pocket and unlocks the doors. He stops to look at me with that charming as ever smile, and he flashes his bright white teeth as his smile grows into a grin._

_“You don’t live very far from Lieutenant Anderson. I’ll just walk back here to get my car later,” he responds bluntly, opening the driver’s side door. I nod absently, wondering why on earth Connor would be willing to walk the four miles back to Hank’s house at one in the morning. “It’s a really nice night, after all.”_

_“Yeah, but it’s already one in the morning, Connor. You’re really about to walk four miles at one in the morning?” I ask, dumbfounded. I mean, I always knew Connor was a strange guy, but taking a four mile walk this late at night was beyond that. “Something could happen to you. That’s a long way on foot.”_

_“It isn’t that bad, detective. I would be a little concerned if it were more than eight miles, but four miles is a fine distance,” Connor gets into the driver’s seat as I open the passenger’s side door, putting my bag on the floor first before climbing in as well. “Not to mention, I’m a detective, and a damn good fighter, too.”_

_“You’ve got that right,” I laugh, shutting the door behind me. He closes his door too, putting the keys in the ignition and turning to start the car. It buzzes to life, the dashboard starting to light up in gentle whites and blues to read the time, temperature, speed and fuel gauge. “I bet you could kill someone with your bare hands, if you wanted to.”_

_“Perhaps, but I don’t think I would ever want to,” Connor admits, turning his head to look at me. I couldn’t make out his features very well in the darkness, but part of his face was illuminated by the lights from the dashboard, highlighting all the perfect spots. “I know that I will do what I have to do to do my job and protect the people I care about, but I would prefer to not have to kill anyone with my bare hands.”_

_“I know, Connor,” I laugh lightheartedly, feeling a little warm and fuzzy inside. It was probably Hank’s whisky flowing through my bloodstream or something. As he backs out of the driveway, I stare out the window at the dark night, all the trees blurring past as the engine purred with each time Connor accelerated._

_“Your car is a bit sensitive, detective,” Connor’s soft voice cuts through the silence like butter, and I can’t help but look in his direction. He was staring straight ahead at the road, but I still caught him glance over at me through his peripherals. “I barely press my foot on the gas, and it accelerates much more than I intended. With both my car and Lieutenant Anderson’s, you have to practically floor the gas pedal to get the car to go any faster.”_

_“Yeah, she’s a pretty badass car. I try to take good care of her,” I smile absently, leaning my head against the cool window. I let my eyes drift closed, sighing contently as my hands rest idly in my lap. I didn’t plan on staying with Hank for so long tonight, but time got away from me, and now I was feeling the exhaustion of my decision. “Hey, Connor? What happened, today?”_

_“Do you mean what happened with Lieutenant Anderson?” Connor asks, turning his head just slightly to get a better look at me. He didn’t look at me for long, quickly turning back to the road for safety after taking a glance. “I just took a risk, that’s all.”_

_“What kind of risk? How risky?” I ask, unsure of which question I’d rather have the answer to. I wanted to know just why Hank got so upset with Connor for making a risky decision, what exactly was at stake when Connor made that risk? His life?_

_“I was chasing down a suspect, and he jumped over a big hole in the bridge, barely catching his balance on the other side. I went to jump over it even after Lieutenant Anderson told me not to, because if I didn’t make it, I would have fallen through the bridge into the river,” Connor sighs, lifting one hand from the steering wheel to run through his soft, dark hair. “Obviously I made it to the other side, but unfortunately the suspect still managed to get away. The risk was for nothing. I guess, maybe in the end, that’s why Hank was so angry.”_

_“I think Hank was just really upset with you for risking your life. Maybe he was really afraid that you were going to fall into the river and drown,” I smile, even though he doesn’t see it. I turn my head back to the window, looking up to the sky above us. “But I’m glad you’re safe, Connor. Maybe you didn’t catch your suspect like you wanted, but at least you didn’t fall into the river and die. That wouldn’t have been good.”_

_“Lieutenant Anderson probably wouldn’t have attended my funeral if I had died after not listening to him, don’t you think?” Connor jokes, the corners of his lips tilting upward at his attempt at being funny. I smile, too, even though the joke was a little bit grim._

_“He says he wouldn’t, but I know that he would be there, a crying mess,” I almost laugh, staring up at the stars. I could almost get lost in them, if I were alone. But with Connor right beside me, he kept me grounded to reality. It was nice to be around someone that wasn’t Hank for once. “Well, probably not a crying mess. But he would definitely have a hard time keeping those tears at bay. I would be the crying mess, actually.”_

_“It’s because you’re emotional,” Connor teases, and I break away from the window to look at him with mock hurt. I gasp dramatically, holding one hand over my heart as I stared at him wide-eyed, mouth slightly agape._

_“It’s not because I’m emotional, Connor!” I try to sound serious, but my voice cracks when I say his name, and it’s pretty clear to anyone who saw the context of the situation that I was trying my damn hardest not to laugh._

_“But you ARE emotional.”_

_“I’m not denying that. But that’s not why I would be sad,” I can’t help it now, and I laugh as I shake my head, dropping my act. It was fun to joke around like that with Connor, I couldn’t really joke around with any of the other detectives or officers I worked with. It was even hard to joke around with Hank sometimes, because he was so fucking serious all the time. Connor didn’t joke like this around anyone but me, either, which was nice, but also strange. It was probably because I usually instigated it._

_“Then why would you be sad?” Connor asks, stopping at a red light. When the car was stopped, he looked at me for a second, and he looked genuinely serious. I figured he’d already know that answer by now, seeing how Hank reacted to his risk, and how I reacted to him explaining it to me. Was it really not obvious? Or was Connor just completely oblivious?_

_“Because it would be really boring and lonely without you around, Connor. It’s always sad to lose someone who’s become such a big part of your life,” I respond sincerely, smiling sadly to myself as I turned back to look at the window. I looked down at the fast-moving concrete below the car, letting a heavy sigh escape past my lips. “I mean, you’re a bigger part of my life than the people in my family. I don’t think I know how I would handle it if one day…”_

_“Well, you don’t have to think about that day now, because I’m right here,” Connor reassures me, reaching one hand over the middle console to pat my arm. It was a kind of weird, awkward gesture, but I appreciated it nonetheless, because any kind of comfort from Connor was enough to calm me down, somewhat. “And I’m going to be right here for awhile.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man the past two days have been RELENTLESS in fucking me over  
> I just wanted to do the right thing, man.  
> I just wanted to help out a friend who needed a place to go.  
> You didn't have to throw me under the bus for some shit I did like two fucking years ago  
> You kicked a bro while he was already down. Stabbed him in the back. Now he lost his girl.  
> What kind of fucking friends do that shit? Damn.  
> I WAS JUST TRYING TO KEEP A FRIEND OFF THE STREETS MAN.


	16. This Probably Won't End Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor: Crack? Is that what you smoke? You smoke crack?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man connor is a reaaaaaal dick in this chapter.

Her car came to a screeching halt as she pulled in next to Connor’s car. She cringed at the sound, like always, and put the car into park, taking a few seconds to collect herself. She didn’t know if Connor would take “the truth” as well as Hank had, so, she felt like she had to mentally prepare herself for whatever might come next.

Connor had been standing by the rail when he heard the screeching breaks of her car pull up. He turned until his back was to the rail to look at her car, but he made no movement to go over to her. He waited patiently for her, watching as she smoothed down her hair before unbuckling her seatbelt. She took a deep breath and stepped out, shutting the door. Her hand lingered on the handle, before she reluctantly forced herself to walk the short way from the car to Connor.

“Your breaks are still messed up,” he tries making small talk first. He knew that whatever she was about to say was going to be fucked up, so any little amount of casual normalcy before whatever bomb she had to drop on him was dropped was nice to have.

“Haven’t found the time to fix them,” she responds as she approaches, smiling up at him sadly. She knew what he was doing. Trying to keep things friendly since it could turn ugly in a heartbeat. Given their track record for this week, they both knew it would likely turn ugly. This was never easy, for either of them. “I’m sorry for dragging you out this late.”

“It’s alright,” he responds, lacing his fingers together in front of his lap. The pair quickly fall into silence, staring at each other blankly for longer time than necessary. She hated that she had to do this to him, she hated that she had to tell him, and that everything was just going to go wrong no matter what she did. Feeling so helpless in a situation she shouldn’t have even gotten herself into in the first place.

“What has you up so late, (Y/N)? What’s troubling you?” Connor finally speaks up through the silence, and she can tell by the tone in his voice that he was playing dumb. He knew that it still had something to do with her strange behavior lately, and she knew that he knew. He was acting like he had absolutely _no_ idea because he wanted her to _admit it._

“Connor, I don’t want to do this to you. No matter what choice I make next, it’ll be the wrong one. If I tell you, you won’t believe me, and you’ll call me crazy. But if I don’t tell you,” she pauses, inhaling a long, deep breath through her nose, “it’ll eat away at me, and everything between us will be compromised. No matter what I do, our love is doomed to fail. I lost.”

“(Y/N)-”

“But you deserve to know, even if you don’t believe me. Even if you think I’m completely fucking insane. I-I can’t keep letting this eat away at me,” she interrupts, wrapping her arms around her own torso to hug herself. _Hank was right._ “I can’t keep this from you anymore.”

“(Y/N), I-”

“I watched you die in my arms, Connor,” she finally admits, looking up into his deep brown eyes with a look of despair. He visibly tenses, jaw tightening as he stood from his initial lean on the rail. Her breath catches in her throat, and she has the feeling that she needs to stop telling him right now and leave it at that.

“What are you talking about?” Connor asks, almost hesitantly. His voice is quiet, and she’s almost too afraid of his reaction to answer. She lets out a shaky breath as her gaze shifts downward, to the concrete below their feet.

“During the Johnson case, I held you in my arms as you died. You got shot when you went into the room. You got shot, and I ran in after you, and I just held you. I held you so close, and whispered that I loved you, because before that day I never said it, even though I wanted to. And I cried,” her voice cracks as tears spill over her cheeks, and she turns away so he can’t see it. “I cried so hard. I didn’t want to let you go. I felt like I just couldn’t live without you.”

Her words and actions stung, feeling like a thousand needles stabbing his heart in an instant. She sounded so _broken_ , like when she saw whatever she thought she saw, her entire world was broken and crushed. It all sounded crazy.

“Hank took me to the bar that night, to get wasted. And I did. I got so fucking drunk, I talked to an old woman, and she gave me the chance to go back and fix my mistakes,” she breathes through tears, shifting her eyes from stains in the concrete to her feet, to Connor’s, back to stains. “I thought, _hey, now that Connor’s gone, I’ve got nothing to lose, so, let’s fucking try it!_ So, I went back to save you.”

Connor stayed silent, staring at her as she spoke. He just couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could all this be true? He felt his own heart beating, he knew he had never died before, but she spoke so truthfully, like she _genuinely_ believed that he really died. He felt like he had to hear out her entire explanation before he could speak, before he could ask real questions.

“I didn’t believe it at first. I really didn’t,” she sighs, taking a few steps back to sit on the bench. He stays standing where he is, frozen in place by her sudden revelations. Why all of a sudden was she telling him this now, when she’d been so reluctant before? “I thought it was just some fucked up, lucid dream I was having. When I woke up the next morning after saving you, that morning I was really late, I thought you were dead. I _genuinely_ believed that you died in my arms, but yet you called, and you came to me, and I saw you, and I knew you were really alive. And I didn’t know how to process all of that in that moment, so, I panicked.”

“I-I couldn’t bring myself to live without you, Connor. And the worst part of it all,” she laughs bitterly, tears streaming down her face as she looks up at his stone-cold expression. Like a statue, void of all emotion, impossible to read. “The worst part of it all is that all you do is keep dying. I keep going back to save you, but it’s a vicious cycle. It’s all so _fucking repetitive._ I just wanted to be able to spend my life loving you. I just didn’t want to lose you.”

“This is unbelievable,” Connor shakes his head, blinking a few times before turning away to the railing again, to face the water. The tears in her eyes flow faster now, and she knows that this won’t end well. “This is insane. How do you expect me to believe this, (Y/N)? This-this just doesn’t make any sense.”

“I _know_ that! I know it sounds fucking nuts! That’s why I didn’t want to tell you! I-I knew I shouldn’t have-”

“If that’s the truth then what does that mean for me? If I keep dying over and over, doesn’t that mean I’m destined to die?” Connor’s voice gradually grows louder as he speaks, until he’s yelling. He turns to look at her, a mix of emotions bubbling over and spilling onto his face, anger, hurt, sadness, fear? “What kind of life is that to live, (Y/N)?”

“I-I don’t-” she has a hard time finding her words, pressing her back against the back of the bench, finding herself unable to stop looking at him. She knew that what she was doing was unfair to Connor, and completely selfish, but she just couldn’t bring herself to let go of him, to let the love of her life just die. “I’m sorry, Connor.”

“What was the second time?” Connor asks, taking one step forward. She gulps, clutching her jacket tightly around herself. Her heart was getting close to beating outside of her chest, feeling tight and painful. “The second time I _died._ What was it?”

“The hostage,” she says quickly, voice just above a whisper. His frown deepens and his eyes narrow as he tilts his head. She’s trembling now, looking everywhere _except_ for Connor. “The pregnant woman at the house. I stayed outside with Hank, so the second time, all I heard was the gunshot, and screaming. That’s when I went back to grab your hand and let me go with you. That was the third time you died. I watched as you got shot in the head.”

“No,” Connor shakes his head furiously, refusing to believe what she was saying. Okay, yes, the whole thing sounded insane, but he couldn’t just put his trust in her for one moment? “No, that’s not possible. There’s no way.”

“Connor, you _have_ to believe me. I-I know that it’s hard-”

“You expect me to believe that I keep dying and that you’re the angel here to save the fucking day?” Connor shouts, and she sinks into herself, feeling the hot tears cascade down her cheeks as he goes on. “I’m sorry, but that sounds like bullshit to me. Are you on drugs?”

“No, Connor! I’m being serious!” she defends, standing up to face him. She wanted to yell, she wanted to scream in his face because he shouldn’t be acting like this. Yeah, it was a lot to process all at once, but it wasn’t fair to her either to treat her like a psychopath on drugs because something in her life went wrong, because she was just doing the thing she thought was right at the time. “I know that it’s hard to believe but can’t you just trust me _for once!?_ ”

“I trust you all the time, but _this,_ ” he seethes, tightening his fists at his sides. She takes a step forward, lifting a hand up to touch him, but he reels away from her, looking away. “This is just _wrong._ ”

“Connor, _please-_ ”

“I-I can’t listen to this anymore,” he grumbles, shoving past her towards his car. She reaches out and grabs his jacket sleeve, but he shrugs her off, not even looking back. She runs after him, grabbing him persistently no matter how many times he pushes her off him.

“Connor, stop! Please, wait!”

He doesn’t respond, he just gets into his car and drives away, leaving her there, alone, stunned. She watches his car get smaller as it got further and further away, and her hand fumbles for a cigarette from the pack in her jacket pocket. As tears slide down her face, she brings the cigarette up to her lips and lights the tip, inhaling a large amount of smoke.

She knew she could go back and change her choice, but what would be the point? Not telling Connor was just as bad, if not _worse_ than telling Connor was. She already knew that no matter what she ended up doing, the outcome would be the same. Connor would run off, all pissed off, and likely get himself killed.

Did she even care anymore, if that’s what _did_ happen?

…

Of course she would.

She takes another big drag off her cigarette, standing beside her car, next to the empty space where Connor’s car _used_ to be. She shook her head, flicking some ash to the floor. Smoking had become a much bigger habit over the week than she thought, but she wasn’t starting to mind anymore. “Ah, you can really feel the cancer.”

She can’t help it when her mind travels to Connor. It broke her heart every time they fought, every time he rose his voice at her, or yelled at her, because he was upset or angry with her. Every time always struck a nerve with her, it always made her heart feel tight, and she felt like she couldn’t really breathe. Only he could make her feel those things, make her feel so great yet so fucking horrible at the same time.

She wondered what he was doing now, or where he was going, or if he was even okay. She wanted him to believe her, but she couldn’t force that on him. He had to find out and believe her on his own. If he chose not to believe, then that was his deal, she tried to tell him the God’s honest truth.

“Telling him was the right thing to do,” she tells herself, looking down at the cigarette between her fingers. “Even though it didn’t work out, and I ended up getting even more hurt, it was still the right thing to do. And that’s what really matters in the end, right?”

The silence was her only response, a quiet, gentle whistle of wind passing by as she let out a heavy sigh, slumping against the passenger’s side door. She looked up to the sky, staring up at the stars.

_“Then why would you be sad?”_

_“Because it would be really boring and lonely without you around, Connor. It’s always sad to lose someone who’s become such a big part of your life. I mean, you’re a bigger part of my life than the people in my family. I don’t think I know how I would handle it if one day…”_

_“Well, you don’t have to think about that day now, because I’m right here. And I’m going to be right here for a while.”_

“What happened to us, Connor?” She asks, receiving no answer. She tosses the unfinished cigarette to the ground beside the car, leaving it behind as she walks to the other side of the car, slipping into the driver’s seat to leave. She places her hands on the wheel, but makes no other movement to start the car and leave.

“What happened to us?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (living with an old friend is weird and fucked up and i don't know how to cope. like, i still can't fucking believe it. and the world isn't giving me a fucking break, either. I swear though they touch my car-)


	17. Why Can't You Just Believe?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little did she know, she sent Connor into an existential crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah this is a couple hundred - thousand words short of what I wanted, but you know what, this is fine. It's hard to make a chapter long when it's mostly fucking dialogue.
> 
> I haven't been able to concentrate lately im sorry.

Connor didn’t know what to do. He felt so confused, and distraught. Everything she told him sounded so farfetched, so _completely insane_ that he just _couldn’t_ bring himself to believe her. How could it be true that he died? If that was really the truth, what did that mean for him, then? If he was really doomed to die every day until he finally died for good, what was the point in living? For her?

When Connor high-tailed it away from her, he didn’t have a destination. He knew he could just go back to his own apartment, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone. His thoughts were running a million miles an hour, with questions about his existence and his reality plaguing his rather fragile mind. He needed to find _someone_ to talk to, someone who wasn’t her, because he didn’t know if he could face her right now. Not after that.

He stopped at a red light, digging into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. He speed-dialed Hank, putting the phone up to his ear to hear the rings. The light turned green on the fourth ring, and he proceeded down the long street, driving to nowhere. Finally, Hank answered, voice no louder than a low grumble. “What is it, Connor?”

“Lieutenant, I-I need to talk to someone,” Connor responds, voice strained just a little. The minute he started to speak, he felt like he was beginning to choke up, words he couldn’t get out piling up in his throat.

“Well, go talk to (Y/N), she’s probably still up,” Hank responds tiredly, and Connor’s hand tightens on the wheel at the mention of her name, a sharp jab straight to his heart.

“No!” Connor snaps suddenly, making Hank flinch a little on the other end of the phone. He shakes his head, even though Hank can’t see it, and he sighs. “I-I mean, I can’t. I can’t talk to her about this. Not her, not right now.”

“So, what, you want to talk to _me_ , then?” Hank asks, sitting up in his bed and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was _trying_ to sleep before Connor called, trying _not_ to think about everything (Y/N) told him back at the police station. He had a feeling he knew _exactly_ what the problem was, but he could never be _truly_ sure until Connor confided in him and told him just what was troubling him so greatly to call _him_ for _his_ help.

“You’re the only other person who will listen to me,” Connor replies defensively, attempting to justify his reasons to speak with Hank over anyone else he could _possibly_ reach out to at that moment. He feels hopeless and his next few words are meek and pathetic, sad. “I don’t have anyone else.”

“Alright, son,” Hank mumbles in defeat, running a hand over his face. Between her and Connor, he was bound to die thanks to one of if not _both_ of them. His risk of heart attack was probably much higher now after meeting the two detectives. They were slowly but surely killing him with their goddamn complications and tip-toeing around their problems. Just get it over with like a normal person. Rip that band-aid off now, it’ll be easier in the end. “Come on over here and tell me what’s goin’ on.”

“Thanks, Hank,” Connor breathes a relieved sigh, changing course to drive toward Hank’s house. Hank mutters something in response before hanging up, leaving Connor alone with his thoughts until he arrived. _There has to be some kind of logical explanation to justify everything that she said. I want to believe, I do, I just-_

“ _Can’t_ ,” he whispers to himself helplessly, closing his eyes for just a brief moment before reopening his eyes to focus on the road. “Maybe she’s just having very vivid nightmares? Like, déjà vu? Really realistic, messed up déjà vu.”

It sounds ridiculous, but so does going back in time to change the past and save his life. There was no real-world explanation he could think of that didn’t sound totally crazy. Dreams? Time travel? Seer-like abilities, to see into the future and decide the outcome? All of that just seemed like science-fiction.

Nothing made sense to Connor anymore. He could die at any moment, from some horrible accident or mistake, and he’d just come back, saved by (Y/N) in some way. Why him? Why her? Why did _he_ get to come back after death, but no one else did? Why did _she_ get to go back in time and fix her mistakes to save the people around her, but no one else could? And _why the fuck_ did she use her powers just to save _him,_ of all people?

Nothing made sense anymore.

His car finally came to a slow stop beside the curb in front of Hank’s house. The living room light was shining through the pale, near-transparent curtains of the front window. Connor hesitated in his car for a second before finally shutting the car off with a depressed sigh. He didn’t know what to do. He honestly didn’t think he’d get this far.

He stepped out of the car and tentatively walked up the path to the porch, twirling his coin between his fingers. He hated that he felt so nervous and upset. It felt wrong to be upset, yet he still couldn’t help but feel so angry, and confused. He hated not understanding, he hated being confused, it was _unlike_ him to be so _unsure_ of his reality.

Connor raised a hand slowly to knock on the door, two quiet knocks followed by two just-slightly louder knocks. There was quiet shuffling and grumbling from behind the door, before the sound of the lock clicking unlocked gave warning to the opening door. Hank stood with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed just slightly at him, before he just sighs and steps aside to let Connor in. “Come in, asshole.”

Connor followed Hank inside in silence, placing the coin wordlessly back into his pocket. Hank sat down on the couch and motioned for Connor to join him, waving him over to the living room. “So, what is it that’s got you so messed up, Connor?”

“(Y/N) told me something today,” Connor starts slowly, taking a seat next to Hank, letting his eyes follow Sumo as he struts over to lay at his feet. He absently reaches down to pet the dog, frowning to himself as he thinks of what to say. “Something extremely… troubling.”

“What was it?” Hank asked, even though he felt like he already knew the answer to that. It was getting a little redundant, having to play their stupid little games. Yet, even then, even though he thought he already knew what Connor was about to tell him, part of him still _hoped_ he was wrong. He was the one who gave her the advice to tell Connor her secret, if that was what was troubling Connor so greatly, he’d feel _pretty fucking bad._

“She told me that I died,” Connor sighs, slouching over and putting his head in his hands. _Yeah, I figured that’s what this was about._ Hank deflates with Connor, mind briefly drifting to how (Y/N) must have taken his reaction to the whole situation. “She told me she’s seen me die more than once, over and over, like, like some kind of ground-hog day effect. What- what does that mean, Hank? Is that-is that true? How am I supposed to believe something so completely and utterly _insane!?_ ”

“You know, there are some real strange things in the world, Connor,” Hank says, leaning forward to look at Connor. Connor turns, frown etched deep into his face, uncharacteristic of him. It wasn’t like Connor to be so upset and confused, he usually had control of his situations, but for once he felt like he was powerless. “It wouldn’t hurt to believe her, you know.”

“Okay, so what, what happens if that’s _really_ what’s happening? If I believe that I really _am_ dying every day, and that (Y/N) can just suddenly appear back in time to save my life as if it’s nothing? What does that mean for _me_?” Connor asks, pure skepticism laced in his features. “What kind of life am I living if I’m supposed to die? And what kind of life is _she_ living if she’s trapped to repeat the same cycle over and over again? Whatever it is, it’s clearly messing her up, which is messing me up-”

“And _that_ is messing _me_ up. But you know what? What we need to do is _believe_ in each other, trust each other, and go back to the way we were _before_ all of this fucked up shit happened,” Hank suggests, nudging Connor’s side with his elbow. Connor shook his head, sighing and casting his eyes downward toward the carpet. “We’re all _partners._ We’re supposed to have each other’s backs, and believe them when something sounds fucked up. I mean, do you _really_ think (Y/N) would lie about something like that?”

“No,” his answer is slow, hesitant, because he _knows_ she wouldn’t deceive him like that, but at the same time, he felt _wrong_ to believe something so completely _impossible._ It made him sad, to completely reject her over his own personal insecurities and beliefs. It made him hate himself for leaving her so suddenly, being so upset with her, for having exploded like that. He didn’t think he could believe her, but at this point, he wasn’t even sure he could believe _anything_ anymore. “I just- it doesn’t sound _real._ ”

“I know it doesn’t, son,” Hank sighs, raising a hand to pat Connor on the back lightly, comfortingly, like a father would to his troubled son. That _was_ what Connor kind of was, to Hank, at least. “But we don’t have much of a choice but to believe her, right?”

“I guess you’re right, Hank,” Connor sighs, shaking his head. He knew Hank was right, for once, but he still couldn’t shake that wrong feeling in his gut. “So, then, what _does_ that mean for me, Hank? Does that mean I’m going to die tomorrow?”

“We don’t know that, Connor,” Hank says, but he can’t bring himself to say “no”, either. Truth be told, he didn’t know _what_ all this meant, what was going to happen to them all now. He didn’t know if Connor was going to die, and if she would go back to save his life, just like she’d done countless of other times before. He figured that it was probably inevitable, that Connor was bound to die again within the next few days. “This just means we all have to be _extra_ careful with our jobs. No more risky decisions.”

“Does it even matter if I’m supposed to die, Hank?” Connor asks hopelessly, leaning back into Hank’s couch. He rests his head against the back of it, staring up at the ceiling in deep thought. “I’m past my expiration date. I was supposed to die _days_ ago.”

“But you’re here now, so why not live it while you still have the chance?” Hank asks, raising a brow questioningly at his younger partner. Connor almost scoffs, closing his eyes for a brief moment before sitting back up to lean his elbows on his knees. “You’ve got another opportunity to live out your life to the fullest before you die for good, don’t you think it’d be worth it to take advantage of the chance she gave you?”

“It’s like she’s the one holding my life in her hands,” Connor says in wonder as he looks at the palms of his hands, staring deeply at every crease in the skin.

“In a way, she kind of is.”

“I can almost feel her gripping my heart, Hank,” Connor’s voice is strained, and he tightens his hands into fists, trying to will away the knot tying itself into his throat. “For once, I feel like I have no control. For once, she’s the one who gets to decide.”

“We just have to hope she makes the right choice, Connor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (hhh ooh my god. my new roommate is driving me INSANE. I CAN'T GET ANY WORK DONE. HE'S SO LOUD AND ANNOYING. I AM GOING NUTS.)


	18. Love Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm hanging by a thread, a rope, the noose around my neck  
> I choke, cause every time I fall in love falls out of me"
> 
> "Love falls out of me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The quote in the summary is from the song "Love Falls" by Hellyeah.)
> 
> Sorry this chapter is mostly based on allusions to previous chapters and mostly feelings. Not much literal dialogue. It's also a couple hundred words short of what I wanted but I finally fucking updated for real this time.

She didn’t go home. She didn’t want to go home. There wasn’t anything there waiting for her, nothing for her to return home to, just a cold, empty house with some fucking furniture and a dog. Sometimes she hated it, the quiet whenever she was alone. That constant, unbearable silence always gave her the chance to fall back deep into her mind and tear herself apart piece by piece, overanalyzing every last detail of the past week, overanalyzing every single mistake she made, every single time she went back.

She hated that she never took Connor’s feelings into account. It wasn’t like she knew what she was doing at first anyway. No instructions, no guidance, no answers, one warning; _everything comes with a price._ How was she supposed to know that it would really work?

However, she _was_ the one who kept going back each time after that, never once considering how Connor would react, or that Connor was a person too, who felt just like her, who was angry and hurt _just like her._ She could have left it alone after that first time, just let go of him for good, that would have been fairer to Connor than what she _was_ doing.

She hated herself for that. She hated herself and she wasn’t even sure if she could ever stop hating herself, not now, not after seeing what she’d done to the person she claimed to love so much. Was it really ever love, though? Was it always just attraction? Obsession? Did she love him just because he was the only one who ever truly showed her what it was like to be human, to be treated like a human, to be treated like more than just some dumb girl with the title of “detective”. He was the only one who ever really respected her. Was it always just admiration disguised as love?

It didn’t feel like love anymore, maybe it never felt like love. Maybe it never _was_ love. Maybe it was obsession after all this time. it started to feel more and more like obsession the longer it went on, the longer she waited, the more she went back. He was so much better than her, so collected, never lost. How could someone like Connor possibly love her now, after all the selfish things she’d done?

All she wanted was one more day.

She blamed herself for everything. It wasn’t hard, not after what Connor said, how he looked at her, the way he stormed off so suddenly. It was like someone had flipped a switch, and he went from being sweet, loveable Connor, to being so cold and harsh, so quick to shut her down, so quick to run away. She almost felt sick just thinking about it.

Her stomach was flipping over itself, a knot was locked firmly in the middle of her throat, and her heart felt so heavy, so hard that it was almost like stone. She wanted to cry but her eyes were too dry for any tears to fall, she wanted to scream but no sound would come out, she wanted to fix things but she was just so lost. Part of her felt empty, and she almost wished she could take his place.

She had nowhere to go, so she went to the only place she could think of, the only place no one would expect her to go. She went back to Eric Johnson’s house, the place where it all started. She pulled along the side of the curb, right in front of the house. It looked the same as the day they pulled up to it the first time; still-rotting wood, dusty curtains, the broken door, overgrowth creeping up along the side of the stucco walls.

She didn’t bother to get out of the car. She sat in the driver’s seat, staring out the window for a long time. _This is where it all started. The straw that broke the camel’s back. The last gentle shove off the edge of that cliff into insanity. My sentence. I was doomed ever since Eric pulled that trigger. Who would have guessed that it all would turn so horrible so fast? All because I thought I was doing the right thing. All because I just wanted to see him again. Then I got greedy. Then I thought, maybe I could keep him forever. I never thought about Connor. I never thought about the consequences of my actions. I just saw a solution to my pain and thought it would be that easy. I was stupid to ever believe that._

Her phone’s gentle ring was what snapped her out of that trance. She picked it up to see Connor’s name and contact picture flash on her screen, only to toss it back to the seat next to her, ignoring the phone’s constant vibration and ring. She let her face fall into her hands, taking an unsteady breath as the ring finally ceased. She didn’t care about what he had to say. She figured he would just yell at her some more anyway, or try to talk her into going to some kind of hospital because she’s _completely crazy._

_Yeah, because that’s definitely the truth. Shit, maybe it is. Maybe I am totally crazy. I mean, none of this ever really made any sense, did it? An old, mysterious woman giving me the power to take back the things I’ve done. And then me, using that power, to save my partner from inevitable death because I love him too much to just let him die. Yeah, because that sounds totally sane._

She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take, how much longer she was going to keep this up. She didn’t know what to do anymore, nothing felt right, nothing felt the same. Everything was flipped around and turned so much that she almost couldn’t even tell the difference between reality and imagination. Who even knew if Connor was really alive? It could all be some horrible hallucination that will never end, some curse laid upon her by some witch possibly related to a crook she put away awhile back. Anything could be possible at this point.

_It could even just be a nightmare I can’t wake up from. Maybe I’m in a coma from that one close-call Hank saved me from. Maybe he didn’t ACTUALLY save me, and everything since then has all been a dream. Nothing is impossible, if the world we live in had anything to show for it._

Her phone rings again, Connor’s picture flashing once again across the screen. She let it ring over and over, vibrating against the seat she threw it against. After the car finally returned to silence for a short moment, the ring came again persistently, for four more times before she got sick of it and threw it out of her car and down the street with a frustrated yell. She slammed the car door shut after chucking the damn thing a good ten feet, huffing out an annoyed sigh as she leaned her forehead against the steering wheel.

“Who needs a phone anyway? Yeah sure, I’m a cop, but who gives a fuck? Connor’s gonna die mad at me tomorrow, I’ll probably lose my job for being a shittier cop than usual, so honestly, I don’t care anymore. I really fucking don’t,” she laughs sardonically, throwing her head back against the seat as a few tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “All I care about is how Connor feels, and he hates me.”

She turned to look back at the decrepit house, frown deepening as her mind flashed through the memory of that first day, of that first time. The clear, vivid memories of that same house, that gunshot, the thud, the blur of the man running past, and the three extra gunshots after that. All the tears and whispered “ _I love you” s_ , every painful moment of losing Connor that first time. She never really got him back in the end though, did she? Could she even consider Connor still _her_ Connor after she’d watched _her_ Connor die in her arms? Would her Connor have believed her?

_She rushed to Connor's side, falling to her knees and grabbing him gently, cradling him as if he would fall apart beneath her fingertips._

She looked down at her fingers, palms facing upward so she could see the fading little crescents, as well as the newer ones. Proof that she wasn’t dreaming. Proof that this was real, as real as it could get.

_Tears rushed down her cheeks in streams as the world in front of her crumbled to dust, and she absentmindedly moved her hand to the wound, pressing down hard to stop the bleeding. "(Y/N) …"_

She tightened her hands into fists, pressing her knuckles lightly into her forehead. She shook her head, closing her eyes as the memories kept flooding through, pushing aside every other possible thought that could interrupt her walk through the past.

_"Connor, you can't leave me. I can't do this without you," she whispers, finally looking him in the eyes. He was pained, a drop of blood sliding down his chin from the corner of his lips, and he coughed, spitting up a small amount of blood on her shirt._

One hand found its way to her shirt, the spot right above her heart. Her knuckles started to dig painfully into her forehead, a mild pain beginning to bloom and fade out throughout her entire head, starting as a vague headache and turning into something almost unbearable.

_He reached a weak hand up to her cheek, wincing in pain as he wiped a stream of tears from her cheek._

Her fingers tightened on the fabric of her shirt, and her teeth clenched as her heart sped up. She hated this, hated every minute of it. But she deserved it. She deserved all the hurt that came with reliving her old memories, reliving every painful second of losing Connor.

_"Sorry about your shirt, (Y/N)," Connor smiled weakly, almost laughing if it didn't hurt so much. The tears only came faster, the distinct shouting and sirens drowning out as she focused only on him, on his words, on his face._

She choked out a desperate sob, clutching her heart as the tears finally began to spill over her cheeks again for the third time that night. “You damn fool. I didn’t care about the blood on my shirt.”

_He closed his eyes, heaving a heavy breath before reopening them, dropping his hand down to hers, the one over his wound. "You're strong, you can do this without me, I believe in you."_

“I can’t do this without you,” she cried out, reaching the hand that was pressed against her head up into her hair and gripping tightly, on the verge of tugging the weak strands loose. “I can’t, Connor, I can’t.”

_"Connor, I love you," she says, almost too fast for him to catch it, but he does, and he smiles. He squeezes her hand reassuringly one last time as she repeats the phrase. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."_

“I need you, Connor. I can’t live without you. Come back to me Connor, please,” she breaks down, muttering gibberish through her tears, curling in on herself in her seat, parked in front of the house belonging to the man who took everything away from her.

_With his final breath, he repeated the phrase back to her. "I love you."_

“How could you love me in the first place? You were always better than me, so calm, the best negotiator, the best damn detective on the force. Better than Gavin, even better than Lieutenant Anderson. And me? I was always painfully average, completely useless.”

_"Come back after a breakdown like the one you had at that hostage situation, only to fuck up at work, too? Sure you're still cut out for the job, (Y/N)?"_

“Maybe Gavin was right. I’m not cut out for being a detective.”

_"I'm sure that deep down, he always knew that."_

“Connor never saw the love I held for him in my eyes before that day. I know that.”

_Beaming with an innocent grin, he squeezed her hand back, staring back into her broken eyes. "I love you, too!"_

“How true were those words, Connor?”

_He reaches out to her, tears threatening to spill from his own eyes. "(Y/N), I love you."_

“Did you really love me?”

_"I love you," he says suddenly, and it catches her off-guard._

“Do you still love me, after everything?”

_"You're my everything," he mutters to her, only to her, and he moves his hand to cup the side of her face, leaning in until their lips were almost touching. "I want to hear you tell me you love me, that you need me, that you'll never leave me, because I love you, I love you so much, I never want to leave you."_

Her cheeks were wet, her breaths were shallow, and she still sat in front of that damned house, with her goddamn phone feet away outside, broken, just like her. “Were those all just fucking _lies_? Did you ever really _love me_?”

_“I-I love you too, (Y/N),” he coughs, knees buckling from underneath him. She slowly lowers him to the floor as he heaves, clenching his eyes tight at the pain shooting all through his body._

She shakes her head again, letting out manic laughter through her tears, running her hands through her hair before she starts tugging, ripping out small clumps of hair from her scalp.

_She leans back just slightly to press a long kiss to his forehead as her hand reaches up to softly caress his cheek. “I love you, too.”_

“No, you don’t. Not anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I just want things to be fine, for me to be okay. I just want my brother back, my family back, my life back.  
> But everything's too fucked for any of that to happen anyway. My brother is too gone, my mom is too messed up and lost, I'm lost, and my dad just replaced my brother with my roommate like that's gonna help, like that's gonna change anything. Will my dad replace me just as fast with my roommate's girlfriend? How long until I'm the next child being disowned by the family? A month? Maybe two?)
> 
> (fuck, i feel so lost and alone. I have no one.)


	19. All That I've Got

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can they fix it, or will it only tear them apart?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been awhile. Sorry its been so long. Probably so long that everybody reading this before now lost interest. Shit, even I feel like I'm a bit disinterested. But lately I've been disinterested in everything so that's no surprise.
> 
> My fucking roommate needs to be knocked down a peg. I'm tired of him always rubbing everything in my fucking face up on his high horse. 
> 
> I'm sick of being treated like fucking crap.

_“Hey, you’ve reached (Y/N) (L/N), please leave a message at the tone and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible, thanks.”_

“She didn’t pick up,” Connor sighs dejectedly, hesitantly bringing his phone away from his ear and pressing the red button to hang up. Hank shrugs, absently petting Sumo on his couch. He paced around Hank’s living room as he stared at the screen, at the recent call list. “Should I call her again?”

“It’s late, Connor. She’s probably sleeping. Leave her a message or something,” Hank suggests, looking up from the dog to look at his partner. Connor nods and hums in thought, staring at her name as if trying to analyze it for any clues, anything at all.

“She seemed really upset when I left her at the playground. I don’t think she’d go to bed just yet. I figure she’s probably drinking,” Connor taps his chin as he continues to stare at the screen, pressing his finger to her name to call her once again. Hank rolls his eyes at his comment, returning his attention to Sumo.

“Hey, you’ve reached-”

He quickly hangs up and presses again, with no better luck. Two more times after that and it began to go straight to voicemail. Connor’s stomach dropped, and his heart leapt up into his throat. His mind almost went into panic mode, believing something to have happened to her sometime between his first call and the most recent one. _Why couldn’t I have just stayed?_

“Hank, I think something’s wrong, her phone doesn’t ring anymore, it just goes right to her voicemail,” Connor frowns, stopping his pacing to turn to face Hank. Hank’s face fell, a faint expression of-dare I say- _worry_ crossed his features, forehead wrinkling slightly. “Do you think she’s in danger?”

“(Y/N)? In _danger_? Nah, no, she’s definitely fine. She can handle herself, she’s still one of the best detectives on the force, after all,” Hank shuts Connor down instantly, rising up off the couch quickly. “Even with this confusing… mess we’ve stumbled into.”

“What do you think it is, then?” Connor asks a little too quickly, voice laced with concern. Hank hummed in thought for a moment, genuinely thinking of any other reason her phone would suddenly start going directly to voicemail. Something clicks, and Hank snaps his fingers and points up.

“I got it. She probably blocked you,” Hank finally responds, nodding his head in affirmation. Connor’s frown deepens, and looks down at his phone.

“Are you sure, Hank? I wasn’t aware you were able to leave voicemails to people who’ve blocked you,” Connor furrows his eyebrows in slight confusion, breathing out a heavy sigh of failure. “I hope she isn’t that upset with me. I only wanted to apologize.”

“Awh, son,” Hank’s shoulders slump as his face falls, visibly deflated after seeing Connor’s kicked-puppy face. To tell you the truth, Hank didn’t really know all that much about cell phones. At least, not when it came to blocking and being blocked or how voicemails worked. He had a more… basic understanding of his phone, rather than an extremely technical approach. “Okay, well, maybe it’s not that. Her battery could have died, she could have gotten tired of your persistent calling and turned it off, any number of completely safe problems could have gone wrong. She’s probably fine.”

“Okay, well, I’m going to check on her at her house,” Connor turns away from Hank, locking his phone and pocketing it. He reaches the other hand into his other pocket and pulls out his keys, walking swiftly to Hank’s front door. “I need to make sure she’s safe at home, or that she makes it home safe if she isn’t there.”

“Whoa, wait, kid,” Hank stops him for a second with a hand on his shoulder, and Connor turns just slightly to look back at him with an anxious expression. Hank paused, throat feeling suddenly dry as the words echoed in his head.

_He died in a car accident._

“What is it, Hank?” Connor asks, voice quiet as his eyebrows furrow. Hank lets out a deep sigh, letting his hand fall back to his side.

“Let me drive you there,” Hank suggests, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Connor turns to face Hank completely, a slight look of mild confusion crossing his features. “Because, I mean, if she’s mad at you then you don’t want her to see _your_ car, right?”

“Why would it matter if she saw my car or not?” Connor asks suspiciously, slowly crossing his arms over his chest as he raised an eyebrow at the Lieutenant. Hank silently curses the Gods for making Connor have so many questions, but now wasn’t the time for cursing the Gods. Now was the time for action, or something.

“She-she might see your car and refuse to talk to you,” Hank says quickly, and Connor’s shoulders slump in defeat as he turns away from Hank. Hank had a valid point, especially having known her better than Connor ever bothered to.

“Why does (Y/N) have to make every simple task so much more challenging, Hank?” Connor sighs, putting his keys back into his pocket as Hank grabbed his off the key rack by the door. Hank laughs quietly to himself as he throws his coat on, saying a brief goodbye to Sumo before heading out the door with Connor right behind him.

“It’s because you love her, and when you love someone, that person makes everything harder, because you care about them, and you’d give everything for them,” Hank shrugs, unlocking the car doors and getting inside. “You’re that person for her, too.”

“I make her life harder too,” it was more of a confirmation than a question, thinking back on all the things she did for him, and all the things everyone else said she was doing for him. She was hurting for him, and doing everything for him. Her life was way harder now that she spent all her time and energy trying to make him happy, trying to save him over and over. And he couldn’t even remember any of these things. She’s the only one who remembers.

“We all make everyone’s life harder. Especially us,” Hank gives a little smirk, and Connor gives a confused look back in response. “Because we’re cops.”

“Oh,” Connor laughs, leaning back in the passenger’s seat and relaxing his shoulders just a bit. Deep down Connor still felt mildly anxious about going to see her, scared for both her safety and that she’ll want nothing to do with him since he didn’t give her a chance. Part of him felt like he was blowing everything totally out of proportion, and to be fair he kind of was, but at the same time he couldn’t help himself.

The drive to (Y/N)’s house was quick, quiet, the silence only built tension as they got closer and closer. Connor’s heart only beat faster as they turned onto her street, and when he noticed there was no cars in her driveway, or along the side of the house, he stayed composed, but deep down he was panicking. “Huh, looks like nobody’s home.”

“Maybe we should go back to the playground, she might still be there,” Connor suggests, trying to hide the worry in his voice by attempting to sound confident. Hank turns to look at him with a skeptical look, raising a brow.

“I don’t know, Connor. I don’t think she’d hang out by herself for hours at the playground. Not without booze,” Hank shuts him down, shaking his head and turning the car off. “I think it’s best we wait here for her to come back. I mean, she’s gotta come home at some point, right?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“So, we’ll wait here, and catch her when she comes home. And she’s _going_ to come home, Connor,” Hank interrupts, leaning back to stretch in his seat. Connor’s shoulders slump, and he turns to look out his window at her house. “In the meantime,” Hank pauses, digging through his jacket pocket for the spare flask he kept in it, “we can just talk to pass the time.”

“Right, talk,” Connor says distantly, staring out the window at her front door. He remembers how it felt walking her up to the door the other night, how sad she looked when he left that night, sitting in that same car with Hank. “About, uh, what?”

“I don’t know, Connor, anything,” Hank lets out an exasperated sigh, closing his eyes. This damn kid would be the death of him, if it wasn’t (Y/N). “Why don’t we start with something simple, huh?”

Connor wasn’t listening, he shifted his gaze down, looking at her lawn, ignoring everything Hank had to say. Well, not _ignoring_ him, he was just… occupied, with more important things than entertaining his partner, like remembering what she told him, thinking about what that meant for him, for them, for even Hank.

_“I watched you die in my arms, Connor.”_

“What does that mean for me?” Connor sighs, confusing Hank. Hank unscrews the cap of the flask, taking a rather large swig of it before finally responding to him.

“What does what mean?” Hank asks, passing the flask to Connor, who waves his hand and politely declines his offer of alcohol. “I thought I said to start simple.”

“Sorry, Hank. I just can’t wrap my head around all of… _this_ , you know?” Connor waves his hands around in a dramatic gesture, trying to convey what he was feeling. “If-if she really is going back to save me from dying over and over, what does that mean for me? Doesn’t that mean it’s my time to go? What if I’m not ready though, Hank?”

“Augh, Connor,” Hank groans, running a hand through his hair as he takes another swig of the liquor. Connor frowns and looks down at the carpet of Hank’s car, underneath his feet. “That’s kind of a heavy question, isn’t it?”

“Right, I’m sorry,” Connor apologizes, glancing at Hank once before turning to look out the car window at her house. It’s silent for a few minutes while Connor thinks of a less heavy topic to talk about, while still getting some of the sad shit off his chest. “Where do you think she might be right now?”

“Well, if I had any guesses, I’d say she’s probably drinking at a friend’s house right now,” Hank shrugs, closing his eyes. “Or maybe she’s out taking a late-night drive. I remember she used to do that a lot when she needed to think, or when she couldn’t sleep. So really, she could probably be anywhere.”

“That seems likely, it would give your “phone died” theory some legs to stand on,” Connor nods, tapping his fingers quietly on his thighs in a rhythmic motion he’d slowly adopted after Hank kept scolding him for the loudness of his coin. “How long would these drives usually take, do you think?”

“Well, I mean, it varies. Sometimes she’d drive for hours, sometimes it would only be thirty minutes. It depended on how much was on her mind, how much gas she had, and how tired she was,” Hank shrugs, crossing his arms as he shifted to get a little more comfortable. “Really, she could be here any second, or it could be hours.”

“She’s that unpredictable, huh?” Connor asks, looking out the window. Hank snorts, and cracks open one eye to glance at Connor, before closing it again and waving a hand dismissively.

“Not necessarily, no. You just have to know how much is on her mind and how much gas is in her tank to guess how much time until she comes back,” Hank explains, pausing to think for just a short moment. “But if she has enough weighing on her mind, regardless of how much gas is in her tank, she’ll just go to the gas station and fill it up to keep going.”

“That means she’ll probably be gone for a while, then,” Connor sighs, falling back in the passenger’s seat and closing his eyes as well. Hank lets out a breathless chuckle, pocketing the flask once more.

“Yeah, probably,” Hank yawns, dozing off in the driver’s seat. Connor sits up and looks over at Hank, watching as he slowly falls asleep. Connor sighs again, turning to look out the window at her driveway.

“I hope I didn’t hurt her.”

She still has a lot on her mind, and she still hasn't figured out what she's going to do about Connor, but she knows that she can't stay out forever, especially since her dog still needed to be taken care of. The only thing she could at least be thankful for was that by now she was totally numb, all cried out, just tired.

There was barely anyone on the road. It was almost peaceful, but there was that slight loneliness to it all, driving over the river with no one to share it with, without even another soul with her on the bridge. She passed by trees, and houses, all of which just felt dead this late at night.

She hit every light green on the way home, and didn’t see a single car all night. It was like even crime was put on hold for her for once. It was like time just stopped. She turned onto her street, slowly driving by all her sleeping neighbors until she sees her house and… Hank’s car? “What the hell? What’s Hank doing here?”

She pulled into her driveway, quickly turning off the car and stepping out, calling out to her older partner. “Hank? Hank is that-”

Suddenly the passenger door opened, catching her off guard and forcing her to stop her sentence. Connor stepped out, and she froze in place. She screamed at herself mentally to run to the house, to do everything to avoid Connor like a child, but she stayed firmly in place, even as Connor rushed over to her.

The passenger door slamming shut behind Connor startled Hank awake, and he saw (Y/N) standing in her driveway, and Connor walking over to her. He called out to stop Connor, pushing open his own door and following after Connor. “Connor, wait, goddammit!”

_What the hell is going on?_

“What are you doing here?” she asks, mostly to Connor, but she directs it to the both of them. The question stopped Connor dead in his tracks, and she almost feels bad for sounding so harsh. “I uh- I mean it’s late, you two should be at home sleeping.”

“Well, we just had to make sure you were safe, kid,” Hank says with a tired smile, and she smiles back sadly. Connor bites his lip and rubs his arm nervously, trying to think of the right words to say to her.

“And I wanted to apologize,” Connor finally speaks up, and she looks over at him in surprise. Hank sighs and mutters “ah, crap.” “I should have given you a chance. I should have believed you. I made a lot of mistakes with you tonight, and I’m sorry. This is-uh, going to take some getting used to, but I want us to be able to get through this together, and not let this tear us apart? Because I love you, and I don’t want this to destroy us.”

She starts to laugh, and Connor smiles nervously, but then she starts to cry, and he begins to panic. He thinks he might have said something wrong, or that maybe he hurt her more than words can fix, but then she throws herself at him and wraps her arms around him tightly. It isn’t the reaction he expected, but he couldn’t have asked for a better one. “It won’t destroy us, Connor. Not as long as we’re together.”

Hank smiles, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “The strongest people I know.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a job for 2 months, then lost it. Now I'm unemployed again.  
> And nobody will hire me. siiiigh.
> 
> (ps. thanks everyone who comments support and stuff. it really means a lot to me, even if I don't get around to replying. I feel like a simple thank you gets kind of redundant and I want it to be special and mean something so just know that everything I write I write for you and I thank you all for everything. Really.)


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